


Heaven Waits For You

by TheRiverScribe



Series: By the Grace of God [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Grace, Archangels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enochian, Gen, Guilt, Heaven, Post-Season/Series 11 AU, Renewal and Restoration, Seraphim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/pseuds/TheRiverScribe
Summary: Michael returns to a damaged, crumbling Heaven.His remaining siblings are broken shells of angels with burnt wings.They have a lot of work to do.





	1. The Wayward Prodigal Son

**Author's Note:**

> This story picks up from Michael's exit in "The Valley of the Shadow."
> 
> Eternal gratitude to my betas and plotting parnters: Nathyfaith, ScrollingKingfisher, MonPetitTresor, and Patient-Number-Zero have all played enormous roles in ensuring this story got written (and that future stories are so detailed and ready to go)!!  
> THANK YOU!!!!

Michael flew from the Earth, barely managing to contain his wrath until he was out of range of the fledgling. The two humans trailed behind him, wrapped in the protection of his grace. Not that they deserved it. He was sorely tempted to let them go and watch their miserable souls burn in the planet's atmosphere, but he wanted answers first. They would burn enough later.

Space and time folded around him with each fiery wing beat, and in less than a human-heartbeat he was there. Heaven—the one place he thought he'd never see again. The only place he ever wanted to be. _Home._

The Host sang in his mind, praising the return of three archangels. Their chorus blended with frantic questions concerning the explosion of grace that had shaken the foundation of Heaven, and the unmistakable cry of a fledgling. So many voices creating a cacophony of sound, and yet he heard the gaps where many were now missing.

Michael landed inside Heaven's main hall—an enormous gathering space from which all other hallways branched. 'The Heart of Heaven,' some called it, or 'Heart Hall' for short. A glorious cavern crafted by the Head Architect from grace and stars, it could expand to hold infinite numbers of angels. Countless eternities had been spent in this space, singing and grooming and just existing together.

Heart Hall teemed with rough-looking seraphs huddling in clusters. They had been assembling teams to investigate before Michael intercepted them. He hadn't realized the ragged group barely capable of flight were the healthiest of the Host.

Michael let the unconscious humans fall to the ground as he stared, his mind temporarily stunned in horror. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of wars. Battles the Host fought while he'd been trapped in the cage had left scars on everyone.

Raphael had described some of it during their time with the Father, but not to this extent. He wondered how many siblings were lost after the Healer's demise. Why had none of the other healers tended to anyone? Most of the angels he saw had burned, mangled wings incapable of flight. And even more shocking was the fact that almost every single angel had a vessel.

Michael ran out of time for contemplation when a hush fell over the hall. One-by-one, seraphs turned toward him. He felt their brokenness as his own. “ **Hello, brothers and sisters.** ” His voice carried easily through the room. No one moved.

The silence continued until a figure broke through the crowd. He recognized his sister, Sariel—Heaven's top warrior and Michael's personal guard. He'd not seen her since he left to battle Lucifer.

“ **Commander?** ” she said in awe.

Michael smiled, pulling her in for an embrace. “ **Sariel, it is good to see you again.** ” He felt the scars on her grace where old injuries had never healed properly. If Heaven's best was in so bad a shape, then what chance did the others have of being any better?

“ **How...just how?** ” she asked, disbelief marring her joy.

“ **It is a long story,** ” he sighed. Looking across the sea of faces, Michael addressed them all. “ **I must apologize—to all of you. The last time I stood here, I demanded obedience and in the same breath I ordered destruction. I was wrong. I forgot my purpose, and the purpose of Heaven, in the absence of our Father. And in turn, He lost faith in us.** ”

Murmurs and gasps rolled through the hall. They were all lost children, and had been for a long time. Michael saw that now.

“ **But we have been given a second chance.** _ **I**_ **have been given a second chance. Our Father pulled me from the Cage. He gave me back my purpose, and showed me His plan for us. We have a lot of work to do before we can fulfill that purpose, and it all starts now.** ” That turned some heads as hope sparked in the midst of despair. “ **I want all healers to report to me immediately. Same goes for any seraphs who have been serving as leaders in my absence. I need reports on everything that has transpired since the apocalypse. Once I am up-to-date, we can begin work on fixing Heaven, and our family.** ”

Seraphs began breaking off from their groups as the healers made their way toward Michael. His grace ached when he saw how few remained among their ranks. Raphael would be devastated.

“ **Sariel,** ” he said quietly. “ **I must ask two things from you. First, I need you and at least two others for a special mission.** ”

“ **Of course, sir!** ” Sariel's eyes lit up. “ **What will we be doing?** ”

Michael smiled at her eagerness. “ **The cry you heard earlier? It came from a new fledgling.** ”

Sariel gasped and looked behind him like the child might be hiding. She frowned at the slumped bodies. “ **Where is he? Why is he not with you?** ”

“ **He is safe for the moment. Gabriel and Raphael have him.** ” Michael gazed around them at the broken structures and angels. “ **Heaven cannot nurture a fledgling in its current state. Especially not this one.** ”

“ **What do you mean, sir?** ”

Michael sighed and drew her closer, away from the approaching healers and curious ears. “ **It is Samuel Winchester,** ” he explained in a whisper. “ **Father healed the boy's soul with His own grace.** ”

Sariel stared at him, blinking almond-shaped eyes slowly in shock. “ **I...I see how moving him to Heaven could be problematic. We do not have a good history with the Winchesters—especially the younger one.** ” Her quick appraisal of the situation made Michael want to hug her again.

“ **Yes. And some of us...** _ **I**_ **have personally hurt him in ways that are unforgivable. I cannot ask him, nor force him, to come here. Nevermind the fact that Heaven is crumbling and our caretakers have all been reduced to soldiers. We are not capable of handling this child at present.** ”

“ **What can I do?** ” she asked, agreeing with his assessment.

“ **Gabriel has formed a flock on Earth,** ” he said with equal parts fondness and longing. “ **They are an odd mix of angels and humans, but fiercely protective of each other. I would not have them separated for any reason.** ”

“ **'Angels' plural?** ” Sariel's mouth dropped open in realization. “ **You mean Castiel? The traitor Castiel is caring for our newest sibling? Is that wise, sir?** ”

Michael rested a calming hand on her shoulder, using his grace to soothe her rising agitation. “ **Yes, I mean Castiel. I understand that his devotion to the Winchesters has often led him down a troublesome path. He has made many mistakes. So have I. But now is not the time for judgment or vengeance. We have all been given a second chance, and it shall be used for reconciliation. Castiel has the Winchesters' trust, and I have seen him interact with Samuel. To separate them would only lead to more fighting and death.** ”

“ **I...I understand.** ” Sariel shook her head—she understood, but it was still hard to believe. Michael felt the same way. She squared her shoulders, and repeated, “ **What can I do?** ”

“ **I need a team to guard Gabriel's nest. A group of humans managed to get their hands on some of Heaven's most powerful weapons. We will be taking steps to eliminate the threat they pose very soon, but I want this flock protected in the meantime. No one is to approach their nest unless cleared by you or Gabriel.** ”

“ **What weapons do they have?** ”

“ **I am unsure what items they still possess. We recovered a few.** ” He handed her the Olive branch. “ **This is one—a holy relic from the Sisters' Olive trees. And I believe Raphael has just recovered a Tear of God.** ”

Sariel almost dropped the branch in horror. “ **A Tear? A Tear was taken by humans? Did they know how to use it?** ”

Michael nodded. “ **Please, secure this in our weapon's store. And gather the other seraphs you think best suited for the mission. I wish to see them before you leave. Hurry—time is of the essence. And be discreet—I will announce the fledgling's identity once I am assured the Host will not react poorly. Until then, not a word to anyone.** ”

“ **I understand, sir. What was the second thing?** ”

Michael made a face of disgust as he gestured at the humans. “ **Take them to a cell. I will interrogate them as soon as I can. Place them under our most trusted guards. I want the humans alive no matter what the jailers hear them say.** ”

Sariel saluted without question and took off through the crowd.

Michael turned to the small group of healers who stood nervously nearby. Their own grace shone dimly from lack of self-maintenance. Sighing, he waved them forward.

“ **How can we be of service, sir?** ” asked Remiel. Michael didn't remember her being so timid.

“ **Is this...all of you?** ” he asked, trying to keep the devastation from his voice.

Remiel gave a single stilted nod. “ **We lost most of our numbers when we fell to Earth. Some of us managed to find vessels, but even then we faced numerous threats. I fear we have failed as healers. Our grace never recovered from the fall—many angels have suffered and died because of it.** ”

Michael saw the others hang their heads, unable to look at him. He had never seen such defeat among his siblings. “ **No one has failed more than I,** ” he assured them. “ **How would you like to help me restore Heaven to its rightful state? Hmm?** ”

Several heads popped back up. Remiel took a shuffling step back. “ **You** _ **want**_ **our help?** ”

“ **Of course,** ” Michael said, bewildered by their response. “ **Why else...** ” But he saw it now—the way they all were bracing, huddled together for support and some amount of safety. “ **You thought I called you here for punishment.** ”

“ **We failed...** ” One of the other angels started to say, but Michael cut them off.

“ **If our Father has enough mercy to cover my sins, then how could there not be enough for the Host?** ” he asked. Michael knew his own failures far outweighed those of his younger siblings. His leadership had led them all down this path, misguided and driven by the desire to see the world end. “ **I was not brought back to punish those I led astray. God has set me on the correct path once again, and shared with me His vision of things to come. We are no longer operating in the dark.** ”

“ **And we are really going to restore Heaven?** ” Remiel asked, daring to look hopeful. It hurt to think that hope would require so much bravery for beings made of grace.

“ **That is the plan, little sister,** ” Michael said gently. “ **Tell me—how fares the Garden?** ”

“ **The Garden? It is fine, sir.** ”

“ **Then walk with me. Can anyone give me a general report about the state of the Host?** ”

Remiel stepped forward to walk alongside Michael. He staggered against a wall, too weak to hold his vessel upright as she listed their losses. _So many!_ He wanted to race back to their Father, make Him return this very moment to personally oversee His children. How could Michael handle the magnitude of Heaven's brokenness alone?

“ **Sir?** ” she asked, worried at his reaction. “ **Are you alright?** ”

“ **No,** ” he whispered, pushing himself upright and wiping his mouth with a shaky hand. Damn this connection to his vessel! “ **How is Heaven even functioning right now?** ”

“ **It...** ” Remiel glanced at the other healers. “ **We are** _ **not**_ **functioning. Not currently. Not for a long time.** ”

“ **I set you on this road to ruin long before the Apocalypse. This burden is not on your shoulders.** ” He tried to be reassuring through his own grief.

Before they could continue, Sariel returned with two seraphs. “ **Commander,** ” she said, coming to attention with a salute. He returned it with a smile, reminded that not all was lost. “ **I completed the task you ordered, and have put together a team.** ”

Michael looked at the other two. Sariel's choices surprised him. Of course, once he considered the seraphs' past specialties, he found them to be potentially perfect fits.

Nuriel was a fierce warrior known for her kindness. Her vessel suited her—strength hid behind soft, round curves. She had once been Head Caretaker in Heaven's nursery, back when there were still fledglings. And when the last of the angel children were fully grown, she'd assimilated into a garrison. Her experience with fledglings would be a great asset.

Zadkiel stood next to her in a scrawny, pale vessel. A shock of bright red curls sat atop his head, and barely old enough to grow whiskers on his chin. The angel was a competent fighter when challenged, but his jurisdiction was mercy and compassion. Most of his life had been spent as a virtual office worker, sorting through incoming prayers and assigning them as needed.

“ **Nuriel. Zadkiel.** ” Michael gave each a smile as he said their names. “ **Please, join us. I will see you healed enough for flight before you leave. I am sure Raphael will finish my work as soon as he gets a look at you.** ” He led them through through the halls of Heaven, his grace shifting the paths ahead toward the Garden. He listened to the angels' ruffled wings and low whispers. No one was accustomed to hearing the Commander speak with humor—including Michael himself.

“ **So it is true?** ” Remiel asked in a small voice. “ **The Healer will be returning as well, sir?** ”

“ **It is true,** ” he confirmed, warming at the thought. “ **Raphael and Gabriel have both been resurrected, and restored to their respective places as our Father's Healer and Messenger. As I said—Heaven has a purpose again, and Father wants to make sure we have the leadership to see it through.** ”

They entered the Garden. It sat at the center of Heaven. Michael remembered when the Garden held all of existence—long before the creation of seraphs and planets and souls. He took a deep breath, smelling the combination of rich vegetation and spiced earth. It smelled like home.

Joshua sat against the tallest oak tree, not bothering to open his eyes as they approached. “ **It is about time you got here, Michael.** ”

Michael paused, tilting his head. The Keeper of the Garden never failed to intrigue him. “ **You were expecting me?** ”

“ **I knew of your coming for a long while now,** ” Joshua opened one eye and smirked, wrinkles growing prominent along his ancient face. “ **Shame on you for making me wait.** ”

“ **My apologies,** ” Michael said, returning the smirk even as he heard the seraphs nervously whispering among themselves again. Most were probably to young to realize that Joshua was one of the first seraphs—almost as old as the archangels. “ **You may have noticed that I am a late bloomer in many ways.** ”

“ **Better late than never. Some flowers need extra seasons to show their true colors.** ”

Michael's smile wavered, emotion clawing at his vessel's throat in a way he still disliked. “ **How do you decide if too many seasons have passed? When do you give up on a plant that does not show signs of thriving?** ”

“ **When they die and provide more earth for the next generation of seedlings.** ” Joshua said, slowly getting to his feet. “ **But in this Garden, anything is possible. Life never ends—it transforms.** ”

“ **Good,** ” Michael said, pulling the old seraph's thin vessel in close. “ **We have need of transformation today.** ”

Joshua stepped back and looked over the group standing slightly away from the archangel. “ **Why do they all look like they expect you to smite them?** ”

“ **I am not entirely sure. They get very nervous whenever I smile. Do you think I am doing it wrong?** ” Right on cue, he heard more wing shuffling from behind.

Joshua chuckled. “ **Maybe it is the shock of seeing their Commander smile at all. The archangel I see before me is not the one I remember. I imagine it is quite disconcerting for those who never knew you capable of smiling in the first place.** ”

“ **Oh.** ” Michael hadn't realized the change he felt was so noticeable to those around him. He _felt_ different—lighter, freed from the driving desire for destruction and unburdened by the insanity of the Cage. But was he so different that a simple smile was enough to cause this level of disquiet?

His confusion must have shown on his face because Joshua chuckled. “ **Smiling looks good on you, Michael. Just give them time. There has not been a lot of smiling in Heaven lately.** ”

“ **Then I shall endeavor to reassure everyone that my smiling is not a sign of the end times. In the interim, I am in need of a place to heal this lot.** ” Michael swept his hand toward the healers and Sariel's team.

“ **Been in Heaven for five minutes and already getting to work,** ” Joshua sounded exasperated but his eyes shone with approval. “ **At least you had the good sense to come here. The Garden is more conducive to healing than a crumbling hallway.** ” He led them to the giant oak and encouraged them to sit.

Remiel was the healthiest looking of the healers. Michael figured the best strategy would be to start with those who needed the least work so they could join him in working on those next in line. He sat next to her, explaining to them his plan, and began to work.

Michael's grace flowed strong through the little healer, quickly adjusting her levels and healing old wounds. He didn't have the finesse or skills of Raphael, but he made up for it with power and speed gained through field experience. His brother could fine-tune everyone later. There was time.

Remiel tensed when he started, and Michael had to remind himself to be gentle. They were no longer on a battlefield. Healers were the most sensitive to others' grace, and none had stronger, more potent energies, than the archangels. He tried to not burn through her already-painful injuries.

When he finished with her, Michael moved on to Sariel while Remiel began work on another healer. The guard he was sending to patrol Gabriel's flock had to be in peak condition—including their wings. He hated doing delicate procedures.

Joshua mingled with them, occasionally commenting on their techniques. Mostly, he hummed to the seraphs and flowers. It made it easy for everyone to fall into a rhythm of calm healing. Michael greatly appreciated it.

Time ran slowest in the Garden, allowing them to rush less. He didn't want to send anyone out on a mission of such importance with badly healed and useless wings. But he kept track of time passing outside the center of Heaven—the guard needed to be in place on Earth before the fledgling returned to his home.

As each healer was restored, they joined Michael in grooming the chosen guard. His domino-strategy worked, and soon all three members of Sariel's team was under the intense healing of multiple full-powered seraphs. The entire Garden glowed with blazing grace and wings.

The healers practically bounced with excitement. Their joy and pride reverberated through the whole body of the Host. Songs from Heart Hall flowed through their minds as the rest of Heaven sought to lend their energy and enthusiasm.

Michael shivered at the onslaught of emotions. While time spent with his Father had buffered the isolation of the Cage, it hadn't erased it. To be this connected again to the Host was fantastically overwhelming. He would willingly drown in it if it meant never being cut off again.

When the last guard member was fully healed, they all stood. Michael looked at them with satisfaction. “ **Thank you all. This is an excellent beginning.** ” He bowed his head low in appreciation to the fluster of the seraphs. “ **I must meet with others, and get more work started. For now, I need you to begin triage and healing on the rest of the Host. I would like to have at least one full garrison ready and able to fly and fight if needed. Beyond that, prioritize as you see fit. If you find more healers, or those with potential as healers, please bring them into this effort. Our work has only begun.** ”

He watched the healers sprint from the Garden, eager to use their renewed grace on their siblings. Grinning, Michael turned to Sariel, Nuriel, and Zadkiel. All three stood at attention, rejuvenated and full of purpose.

“ **Thank you, sir,** ” Sariel sounded breathless, stretching her wings in wonder before focusing.

Michael shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. “ **It is the least I could do—and we are only getting started. I imagine Raphael will be less than thrilled with my efforts, although he will be pleased to see his healers are still capable and willing.** ”

“ **What did you need us to do?** ” Nuriel asked, glancing at the other team members in curiosity. “ **No offense, but we are an odd choice for a special mission.** ”

Michael chuckled, and was pleased when none of the team acted put off by it. Good—they needed to be open to laughing archangels if they were to work around Gabriel. “ **I remember you, Nuriel. You were one of our finest caretakers, and became an excellent soldier. Zadkiel—your compassion and mercy will serve you well, as I believe you will need an abundance of both. And there has been no greater warrior among the seraphs in all the ages than you, Sariel. You are perfect choices. I am sending you to guard the new fledgling and his flock on Earth.** ”

“ **Fledgling!?** ” Nuriel gasped. “ **On Earth? But why, sir?** ”

“ **All in good time, sister. If you three will follow me,** ” Michael said, leading them out of the Garden. He sent a mental word to Raphael, asking for an update. It took a few seconds for the Healer to reply.

 _We have just left this...place._ The disgust was clear in Raphael's voice. _Gabriel informs me we shall reach their home in approximately three hours. Apparently, they live in something called a 'bunker.'_

 _A bunker?_ Michael asked, confused. _I know what a bunkers are, and they are not usually homes._

 _That was my thought as well. But he assured me it was adequate for raising a fledgling that started life as a Winchester._ He paused, and Michael waited, knowing there was more. _I will let you know if I find the location to be otherwise._

 _Thank you, Raphael._ Michael had no doubts that his brother would make known his opinion. _Do you have the destination coordinates? I am sending the guard down to be in place for when you arrive._

Raphael sent him the location—a combination of images, mathematics, and emotions. Michael thanked him and wished him luck on their journey. He looked forward to seeing his brother be able to return to Heaven again soon. He hoped it was soon, anyway. Life with Gabriel and the Winchesters was bound to be unpredictable.

Michael led the team back to Heart Hall. It was as good a place as any for him to begin a more thorough evaluation of Heaven's needs. “ **I am sending you down now. Gabriel and Raphael will be with them when they arrive.** ” He smiled, remembering his exchange with 'Righteous Man' Dean Winchester. “ **Also, it is important that you allow Gabriel to control your interaction with the rest of his flock. I have already been informed by one of the human members that extra protection from Heaven is not necessary nor welcome, but will be tolerated as long as you remain unseen.** ”

Shock rippled through all three of them. The idea of a human dictating demands to the Commander of Heaven was inconceivable. Michael following those directions was probably even harder to believe.

“ **Do not worry,** ” he reassured them. “ **You will understand when you get there. Now, I must ask that this is treated with the utmost discretion. Sariel knows a little more, and I promise you will soon learn the rest of the details.** ”

Nuriel and Zadkiel both nodded, their faces serious though Michael could feel their curiosity. Sariel placed a hand on each seraph's shoulder. “ **I picked them for many reasons, Commander. Their trustworthiness is one.** ”

“ **Excellent, Sariel.** ” Michael smiled, and mentally sent her the location provided by Raphael. She gave a nod to show she understood. “ **Go now, you three. And good luck.** ”

He watched them fly out of the hall to the cheers of the surrounding seraphs. The noise startled him, but he realized it must have been some time since they'd last witnessed an angel in flight. Which led him to wonder how exactly the angels had been moving between Heaven and Earth without the use of their wings.

Walking around Heart Hall, Michael quickly found exactly what he was looking for—or more specifically, _who._ A small cluster of seraphs stood in a close huddle. Each shuffled a large stack of papers, intensely passing pages and making more notes as they conversed in a whisper.

“ **Are those for me?** ” he asked, almost afraid to interrupt.

All four jumped back, and turned to face him. One actually dropped his armful of papers and Michael watched as they fluttered slowly to the ground. “ **My apologies, sir!** ” the seraph's voice cracked as he threw himself to the ground to gather the pages into a pile.

Michael knelt down next to him and gently patted his shoulder before helping collect the notes. “ **Peace, brother. I know my return is a shock, but you have nothing to fear from me. You are Puriel, correct? The Soul Inspector?** ”

“ **Yes, sir!** ” Puriel said breathlessly.

“ **I imagine your job has not been an easy one over recent years.** ” Michael handed the papers to Puriel as they returned to standing.

“ **No. Not easy at all, sir.** ”

Michael looked at all four angels. They were Heaven's record keepers, known for their quiet natures and attention to detail. But they were not leaders. “ **Are you the ones tasked with updating me on the status of the Host and Heaven?** ” he asked, head tilted in confusion. Where were the garrison heads? He'd expected generals, not secretaries.

“ **You asked for us, did you not?** ” asked an angel in a tall, female vessel. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Michael remembered her administration skills were unparalleled.

“ **Ingrid,** ” he said warmly. She raised an eyebrow as her only outward reaction. “ **I admit—I was expecting more military leaders.** ”

“ **Our garrisons are in disarray,** ” Ingrid waved off his assumption. There was a time her dismissal would have angered Michael. Now, it just intrigued him. “ **As you will see from our reports, the military has dwindled. Those who remain used to be unit leaders who lost most of their members. Survivors are not entirely organized, although there has been movement to unite the forces.** ”

Michael's smile fell away as he was handed a thick stack of papers. It was a list full of names. His vision blurred by the third page. As happened earlier, he felt his knees weaken and the mighty Commander stumbled to sit on a fallen pillar. The Hall faded around him until the only thing he could see was the unending list of names.

By the time he reached the tenth page, he was openly weeping. He couldn't even see the pages anymore. They crumpled in his fist as he covered his face.

The silence of the Hall made Michael's sobs echo deafeningly. He didn't know how long he sat there, openly mourning, and it didn't matter. It would never be long enough.

Eventually, Michael's tears slowed and he became aware of the stillness around him. He smoothed out the papers as best he could, not realizing he'd soaked several sheets. These names were sacred—each one was a sibling he had personally failed. They deserved better.

Wiping his face, Michael stood shakily and motioned for the four administrators to follow him. Ingrid no longer looked dismissive—her own vessel was pale and glassy-eyed as well. In fact, many angels whom Michael thought incapable of emotion were wiping tears from their borrowed faces.

Michael cleared his burning throat. “ **I have the healers working on any soldiers they can get their grace on. Once we have an established, fully-functional garrison, we can begin to restore every angel's wings.** ” The admins nodded, still too stunned by his breakdown. “ **Do any of you have a report on the structural state of Heaven? And please tell me some of our Architects survived.** ”

The two angels who had been silent thus far stepped forward. “ **I am Charmeine, Commander,** ” said the angel wearing a short woman with wide, round hips that she used to nudge the others out of her way. “ **I was a Gardener under Joshua until Metatron threw us all to Earth. The Architects recruited Neil and I when we returned to Heaven. Now, we are the only ones left. The rest were killed a few months ago by Amara.** ”

“ **Do you like it?** ” Michael asked with honest curiosity.

“ **Love it!** ” Neil replied enthusiastically, his messy curls flopping over his forehead as he nodded. “ **They recruited me after I was able to hack into our 'radio' system. It allowed Metatron to silence the Host and address them without interference.** ” He froze in his excitement, a worried expression replacing his grin. “ **Um, I stopped following the Scribe once I realized his true intentions. I supported him when I believed his goal was to unite the angels.** ”

Michael's eyes went wide. “ **You figured out how to control our communications? No wonder the Architects recruited you. And Charmeine—a Gardener's experience provides an excellent foundation for your new role. Both require intimate knowledge of how to use grace as a structural component.** ”

The seraphs slowly blinked, processing his praise. Then, they smiled. “ **I told you he would be impressed!** ” Charmeine whispered to Neil.

Michael shook his head, thinking of Gabriel. It was the kind of scandalous prank the youngest archangel would have tried. Luckily, the Messenger had never considered the possibility.

“ **Do me a favor, Neil?** ” Michael said in a low voice. The floppy-haired angel nodded again, sending his curls flying. “ **Please refrain from telling Gabriel about your prior experience with our communications. I fear what he may do with such knowledge.** ”

Neil's eyes lit up at the idea—clearly flattered that he shared a mischievous streak with an archangel. He visibly tried to tamper down his reaction by gulping, schooling his face, and nodding seriously. But Michael knew he'd have to keep an eye on this one. Especially once Gabriel began visiting.

Charmeine and Neil led them through Heaven, shifting the hallways to get to areas with the most damage. They handed Michael more papers with detailed reports of structural issues. Some held handwritten notes from the original Architects. These words were as much their legacy as Heaven's grandest halls. Michael handled them as fragile relics.

As they walked, Michael heard more about Metatron's actions. How he'd managed to cast the Host to Earth, leaving them flightless and fractured. How they'd been reduced to using a portal as a means of entering and exiting Heaven.

It took several hours of touring crumbling walls and shattered floors before Michael asked to be led back to Heart Hall. He had enough of a grasp on the damage to know where he wanted to start rebuilding. With a plan in place and orders to have their grace worked by the Healers first, the two Architects bounded back toward the Garden.

Michael looked over the Hall. The renewal had already begun. Angels everywhere stretched their restored wings, marveling at the lack of pain and damage. Hope spread to those who had yet to visit the Healers. Broken angels celebrated with their siblings, bolstered by the sight of strong grace.

So much still needed to be done—healing, building, restructuring routines. But this was a good start. Their resilience had served his surviving siblings well.

Michael made his way through Heart Hall, brushing his hands and wings against the seraphs as he went. Ingrid and Puriel followed close on his heels. When he reached the hallways, he set them on a path toward the one place he'd spent the most time—his own office.

“ **Puriel,** ” Michael started, waiting for the awkward angel to step closer to his side. “ **How are the souls? Have they been affected by the damage and turmoil?** ”

Puriel remained quiet for a moment, and Michael feared the worst. Of all the areas they'd visited so far, they had not gone into the human portion of Heaven. Finally, Puriel answered. “ **I am...unsure, sir.** ”

Michael stopped walking, and the seraphs nervously paused too. “ **What do you mean, 'unsure?'** ”

“ **Well, sir, when Metatron expelled the angels, it closed Heaven. Souls were trapped in the veil for a long time. And there has been almost no one but myself to oversee their care. I have been limited in what I can do. And recently...** ” Puriel trailed off, shooting worried glances toward Ingrid.

“ **Recently?** ” Michael gently prodded, trying to be encouraging.

“ **W** **e have lost access to certain areas where the souls are stored,** ” Puriel mumbled.

“ **That...does not bode well.** ” Michael wondered what could possibly prevent an angel from reaching a portion of Heaven—especially the Soul Inspector himself.

They reached his office. A large, ornate wooden door stood between him and solitude. Michael had been ecstatic to return to Heaven and reconnect with his siblings, but he needed some time alone soon. The emotional drain of the day was taking its toll.

He'd spent centuries in isolation behind this door, only to have it broken when he became trapped in the cage. The time spent with his Father, Amara, and Raphael had slightly eased him back into socializing, but nothing had prepared him for being among the Host again. It took every drop of patience not to shove the seraphs away and barricade himself behind the familiar door. He needed to mourn the dead away from the survivors.  Because he'd failed them both when they'd deserved better.

“ **I want you to visit the Garden and see Remiel about your wings. The healers have been working on soldiers most of the day—gather a team of them and see what you can do about getting to the souls,** ” he said as he opened the door. The rest of the order vanished from his mind when Michael looked inside his office.

Everything was exactly as he'd left it. Desk in the center, neatly organized and uncluttered. Large windows overlooking whatever area of Heaven he wished—it currently showed the Garden and the teams of angels at work. However, there was one difference—a new addition.

A man sat in his chair, feet propped on top of the desk like he lived there. A _human_ man. A human man Michael recognized, and wasn't surprised to find.

“Well, nice of you to finally show up. Do you know how long I've been waiting for your sorry ass? Too damn long!” the man said in a gruff, impatient voice. “What'd you do, stop for food?”

Michael heard the seraphs gasp behind him. He sent them away, telling Ingrid to accompany Puriel to the Garden. There would be time for more orders later.

As soon as they left, Michael stepped into the room and closed the door. “Bobby Singer,” he said in the man's own language. “Why am I not surprised to find you here?”


	2. A Glimpse Beyond This Illusion

_Balls,_ B obby Singer thought as he stared into the face that originally belonged to a young John Winchester. _As if this wasn't awkward enough._ The hunter barely heard the archangel speak, unable to get over how weird it was to hear John's voice so calm. He shook his head to clear it, and swung his legs off the desk. “I'm like a bad penny—you can't throw me far enough away that I won't make my way back.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Singer?” Michael asked, slowly stepping further into the room. “I assume this is not a social call.”

“Yeah, I don't imagine you get many of those.” Bobby stood with a wince. He didn't know yet how the Cage changed Michael. It wouldn't do to antagonize him too much. But there was no outburst at his sarcasm.

Instead, Michael smiled softly. “No. I have existed mostly in isolation. But today is a new day. I started it with my Father, my brother, and my aunt. I've held two brothers who were once dead, and seen something I thought would never again exist. I was given orders by a human I previously underestimated, and I found myself obeying. I touched more of my siblings in the past few hours than I had since my Father left us.”

“Well,” Bobby huffed out a breath, “sounds like you've had a hell of a day.”

Michael laughed and Bobby fought the urge to duck. “It's been the best day of my life.”

“You might want to consider getting out more.”

“I think I will,” Michael said. He walked to the window overlooking the Garden.

Bobby hesitantly stood next to him and turned to follow his gaze. A few dozen angels sat on the grassy patches between flowers and trees. They all seemed to be giving massages to the air around each others' backs. “What are they doing?” he asked.

“They are healing their wings.”

“Oh.” Bobby knew the angels couldn't really fly anymore since they fell, but he hadn't realized it was fixable. He thought about the possible implications of a Host restored to full-strength. The angels were deadly enough without their wings.

“You have not told me why you are here,” Michael stated, tilting his head as he looked at the hunter.

“Right,” Bobby said, clearing his throat. “Guess you could say I'm an emissary, coming to you in search of answers and assurances.”

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that my angels can no longer access Heaven's souls?”

“You might say that...”

* * *

**Sometime Earlier:**

The Roadhouse in Heaven had everything a hunter's soul could want—endless booze, a jukebox with every classic rock song known to man, and good company. Of course, the company didn't come courtesy of Heaven. That was all thanks to Ash.

Bobby Singer took a swig of beer and studied the odd hunter.

Ash sat hunched over a computer, scowling fiercely at the screen. He'd made the machine from scraps found in various individual heavens he'd discovered. Apparently, the genius had been one of the first souls to break free and explore Heaven as a whole. That impulse turned out to be the salvation of all souls in this God-forsaken realm.

The M.I.T. dropout had spent every moment since his death working to hack the ultimate system, and his success was all around Bobby.

Ellen and Bill Harvelle stood behind the bar with their daughter Jo, talking in hushed, worried whispers. Ash had freed them as soon as he'd learned of their deaths from Sam and Dean. Heaven tried to keep them in a more secure area due to their associations with the Winchesters. “Tried” being the operative word—Heaven's security was a constant source of amusement to the hacker.

Pamela had already joined Ash when the Harvelles were freed. The sassy psychic's abilities proved invaluable alongside Ash's genius when it came to keeping in touch with outside events. She'd also led them to many of the souls who sat among them now—people who'd become friends with the Winchester brothers in more recent years.

She currently played pool with a two of them. A red-headed ball of sunshine named Charlie Bradbury who frequently twirled circles around them all, and their most recent addition, the reluctant prophet Kevin Tran, were about as similar as night and day. But they worked together like yin and yang—opposites in perfect harmony. Their genius rivaled even Ash, but they worshiped him as some kind of “nerd god.” Bobby wasn't sure if Ash knew of their idolatry.

Ash often appeared completely unaware of his surroundings, and it remained a mystery how he was always the first to react to anything from within his cloud of so-called oblivion. Whether it was a rogue beer bottle sailing toward his computer, or a possible angel incursion in one of their territories, Ash was usually already in motion before anyone else knew what was happening.

Recently, something big was constantly occurring. The Roadhouse had already been in a frantic state for months, if not years—time was a funny thing up here. From Metatron to Amara, Heaven's Hunters never got a break. After the angels got expelled from Heaven, and war started breaking the very walls around them, they'd begun rescuing and organizing souls.

Some joined the hunters in their mission, but many were too lost and confused. Ash re-coded personal heavens, expanding and combining regions to house entire soul communities. There was now an entire team of folks dedicated to maintaining these communities—people who'd been in every field from psychology to engineering worked together to make the afterlife livable. They currently had three major communities, all nearing the size of small cities, and several smaller ones that continued to grow.

In the meantime, Heaven's Hunters continued expanding their inner circle. Tamara and Isaac sat at a booth with Caleb and Pastor Jim Murphy. Rufus Turner paced near the jukebox like an old dog, drinking straight from his bottle of Blue Label Johnny Walker. The entire room felt thick with the tension. No one spoke above a whisper, unwilling to distract Ash from his work.

Bobby felt someone bump against his shoulder as they took the stool next to him. “Remember that time we got drunk and talked about the afterlife? You said Heaven sounded boring and angels were a bunch of pansies with harps. And I laughed, calling you an crotchety old man with no imagination,” John Winchester muttered, leaning toward Bobby and pouring him a shot of whiskey. “Does it make me a crotchety old man if I now wish you were right?”

“You are a crotchety old man, John. Always were.” Bobby threw back the shot, relishing the momentary burn.

“What's your theory about what's going on? Do you think it's about...” John's voice trailed off, unable to say her name.

Mary Winchester had been the hardest soul for Ash to find, but his persistence eventually paid off. John led the rescue himself, and Bobby grew to love the Winchester mother. Her fearlessness and intelligence quickly established her a leader among Heaven's Hunters. And her presence had been a healing balm to John's soul. A lifetime of seeking revenge and a century spent in Hell had taken a heavy toll on him.

Then, alarms announcing a cataclysmic event sounded from Ash's computer two weeks ago. The genius could only say two words as his fingers flew across the keyboard: “God's dying.” Three hours later, the alarms quit.

All hell broke loose. Wards ignited and burned away as a power beyond the angels tore through them. The Roadhouse shook as though caught in a massive earthquake. And in the midst of it all, Mary Winchester disappeared.

John had exploded with fear, shaking Ash's shoulders as he demanded action. The others rushed to put out the fires and check on the soul communities. It took Bobby, Caleb, and Pastor Jim combined to calm John down and allow Ash time to work.

Within an hour, they had part of an answer and no solution. “All I know is that it was Amara. And God's not dying anymore,” Ash explained without taking his eyes off the rapid scroll of symbols on the screen.

Since then, the genius had not stopped working. The only interaction he initiated was when his PBR ran out. Ellen tried to keep at least three full bottles within his reach. It helped keep him focused.

Now, they were all trapped playing the waiting game. Bobby grabbed the whiskey from John and poured them each another double. “I don't know, John. But if anyone can figure it out, it's Ash. And if it helps, I wish I'd been right too—about Heaven being boring. Because this is the worst retirement plan I've ever seen.”

“Ain't that the truth.” John clinked his glass against Bobby's in a toast.

“What the...” Ash's voice drifted across the bar. Bobby and John both turned in time to see him grab hold of the computer and yell, “Brace! Brace for impact!!”

There was barely enough time to react as Roadhouse seemed to explode around them. Grace-fueled light fixtures showered down sparks. Tables overturned and the walls cracked, shattering beer bottles and framed photos on the ground.

A wave of static-like energy crashed through the space, carrying a scream that felt familiar. Bobby wasn't sure if it was the electricity or the sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Either way, it was a bad sign.

As the dust settle, he checked to make sure everyone was alright. They may not have bodies, but souls could be just as injured by the grace that formed Heaven as flesh was by knives. But grace-injuries were a lot harder to fix, and best avoided. Luckily, the other hunters were shaken but unhurt.

“What the hell was that?” Ellen demanded, keeping a hold of Jo and Bill. She dragged them over to where Ash was wiping dust from his screen.

“I...I don't know!” Ash sputtered, already typing. “The readings I saw right before it hit...Jesus, I don't know. It was like a fast moving shockwave. But made of grace. Like a grace-bomb went off outside of Heaven. I've never seen anything like it!”

“What about the voice?” Bobby asked. Most of the others looked at him like he was crazy, but Ellen and Pamela both gave a nod to say they'd heard it too.

“What voice?” John grunted. “I couldn't hear anything besides the glass shattering.”

“Oh, there was definitely a voice,” Ash confirmed. He grabbed an earbud and shoved into one of his ears—his own direct connection to angel radio. Kevin sat next to him, grabbing the other earbud.

Everyone fell silent. Ash's genius extended beyond computers. His gift for codes included any form of language, and he'd become mostly fluent in Enochian since his death. Kevin's prophet brain came programmed to understand the angels' language. They all knew a few key words, but Bobby was the only one interested in learning more. There just wasn't time for daily lessons when Heaven was constantly on the verge of collapsing.

Pamela gasped, staggering against the pool table. Charlie caught her around the waist while Caleb ran to grab a chair. They got her to sit, and she groaned, covering her pained face with her hands.

“Duuudes,” Ash said quietly.

“Whoa...” Kevin echoed the sentiment.

“What?” Ellen said, leaning closer and handing him a fresh unbroken beer. She handed Jo a bottle of water and her daughter took it to the psychic.

“The angels—they are freaking out, man!” Ash's eyes went wide and he stopped typing. No one breathed.

“Oh God,” Kevin choked out.

“What?!” Charlie whispered loudly, trying not to explode in a bundle of excitement and nerves. She was always good for voicing the general mood of the group.

“They're saying a lot of different things,” Ash said. He grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling things down as he heard them. “I can't tell if they're all related to one event.”

“No,” Kevin shook his head, “there's at least two events they're talking about. One is confusing, but the other...”

“Yeah, the other is a definite, man. Everyone just kinda burst into song because apparently _someone_ thought it was a good idea to bring back the archangels.” Ash didn't look up as he continued writing.

“Which ones?” Bobby asked, getting up to read over Ash's shoulder. He huffed when all he saw was shorthand symbols. 

“All of them,” Kevin whispered. “They're saying that Michael and Raphael have returned, and some believe Gabriel is back too.”

“Hmm,” Bobby mused. Michael and Raphael could destroy all the hunters' work without trouble. Especially if they were fully-powered. Gabriel, however, was a wild-card. 

“What about the confusing thing?” Charlie asked, smacking Kevin's shoulder as she joined him by the bar. 

“I don't know,” Ash said, crossing off one of the symbols. He kept writing something over and over. “I've never heard this word before. It looks like they're saying 'flying baby,' but it makes no sense. Then there's another phrase they keep saying...”

“Child of Heaven,” Kevin finished. “And the other word isn't 'flying baby.' It's fledgling.”

“Man!” Ash threw his pen, bouncing it off the prophet's head. “I wish I could download your brain. Do you know how long it would have taken me to figure that out?”

“Yeah, like ten minutes,” Kevin said, elbowing the other genius in the rib while basking in the praise. 

“What the hell's a fledgling?” John asked, as bewildered as the rest of them. 

“A baby angel.” The soft voice of Pastor Jim joined the discussion. He picked up the thrown pen and returned it to Ash, sitting down next to the man.

“Well, I guess that explains all the chatter about the 'Child of Heaven.' I haven't heard the angels this worked up since the boys released Amara.” Ash grabbed the pen again and kept scribbling. Everyone knew who he meant by “the boys.” 

“Are they talking about a Nephilim?” Bobby asked. As far as they knew, angels couldn't make other angels—they only made half-angel 'abominations' by mating with a human. But that practice was outlawed and strictly enforced by the rest of the Host according to every scrap of lore Bobby had ever read. “What are they saying about this thing? Are they gearing up for a hunt?”  


“No, it's definitely not a Nephilim,” Kevin answered confidently. “'Fledgling' meaning 'angel child' is a very specific word. It sounds nothing like the words they use for bird babies or Nephilim. Besides, the angels are excited—as in joyfully excited.”

“And worried,” added Ash. “The thing that shook Heaven was caused by this kid's grace. It exploded or something? Exploded? But the kid didn't explode. So...” His voice trailed off and Kevin gasped. 

Ash hit a few buttons and unplugged the headphones. At first, only static poured from the speakers next to the computer. He smacked them twice and the static fell silent. Then a voice whispered through them clearly—a young voice full of pain and fear. 

Bobby felt his gut clench at the sound. It was the same voice he'd heard screaming in the energy wave. The same screaming voice he'd heard almost thirty years ago from within an old locked car in his salvage yard. It spoke what Bobby assumed was Enochian, but there was one word he recognized— _Dean._ It was the only confirmation he needed. 

“Dean?” John whispered, panic creeping into his tone. The speaker fell silent again, then exploded as hundreds of angels began speaking at once. Ash jammed the headphones back into their jack and resumed listening to the chaos. “Why would some angel kid say Dean's name?” 

Bobby took a shaky breath and stepped away from the group. “Because it's Sam talking.”

Even Ash stopped writing at the hunter's words. Bobby turned around to find everyone's eyes trained on him. John looked confused and pale. “What? Why would you say that?”

“I thought I recognized his voice when I heard the scream. I didn't know a lot of kids in my day, but I knew your boys pretty well. And that sounded exactly like the time Sam got trapped in a car while playing hide and seek with his brother. The boy panicked and screamed to high heaven the whole time I ran to grab the tools to unlock it. He didn't stop until I got the door open and Dean pulled him out. I'd never forget that sound.”

John stared at him. “But the geniuses said the angels are calling this kid the source of the explosion. That it was caused by grace. _Grace_ from an _angel kid_ , Bobby! Last I checked, Sam wasn't an angel, and definitely wasn't an actual _kid!_ He's bigger than me, for Christ's sake!”

Bobby shrugged. “I don't know any more than you do. I'm just telling you what I heard.”

“Well, you heard wrong!” John yelled. Bobby heard the fear and worry driving the anger, and sighed. 

“John.” Pastor Jim said, laying a hand on the man's shoulder. “It's too soon for assumptions. Let's wait and see if these boys hear anything more substantial. Okay?”

John's shoulders dropped as he forced himself to relax. “Yeah, okay.” He looked up, meeting Bobby's eyes with a genuinely apologetic smile. “Guess it's probably too much to wish my boys could sit on on just one major event.”

“Probably,” Bobby agreed. 

They all quickly cleaned up the mess while Ash and Kevin continued to listen. The two Enochian speakers took turns giving updates. Things happened pretty quickly over the next hour.

“Gabriel's been sighted, so he's confirmed as resurrected,” Kevin said. “Michael just intercepted him and...Castiel? They were on some kind of collision course with Earth.”

“What is Cas even doing?” Charlie wondered. 

“Little guy always was a little short on sense,” Bobby said with a short laugh. “And from what I've heard over the years, that ain't changed any.”

“Hey,” Charlie scolded, hitting his arm none too gently. “No smack talking Mister Dreamy!”

“Ain't he _off_ your radar, missy?” Bobby teased.

“That doesn't mean I don't have an appreciation for pretty people. Have you seen his eyes?”

“Oh, sure,” Bobby said, rolling his own in response. “Oceans of blue I could just fall into.”

“I know, right?!” Charlie agreed, ignoring the obvious snark.

It wasn't long before Ash gave them another update. “Michael just stopped a team of angels from investigating the explosion. They were ordered to return to Heaven and wait for him. I think the angels are still forming teams...in case something happens and he doesn't make it back.”

Bobby pulled out their weapons storage locker. They rarely had to fight, but it was better to be prepared. Angel blades were easy enough to come by when no angels were around to guard their store rooms. And the number of angel-deaths over the years meant there was an abundance of extra blades. No one noticed any missing when the angels eventually limped back to Heaven.

“You got a plan already?” Rufus muttered, helping him sort through their supplies.

“'Plan' is a bit too strong a word,” Bobby answered wryly. “Gettin' prepared is all.”

“Yeah, I'm sure we'll be _real_ intimidating to an archangel with our butter-knife collection,” the cranky hunter mused.

“Well, I guess you could just breathe on him real hard first and get him disoriented from the fumes for me.”

Rufus cackled with laughter. 

“He's here!” Ash announced, holding his hand up to get their attention. 

“Michael?” Tamara asked as she moved alongside Bobby to grab a blade. “He's here in Heaven?”

“Yeah,” Kevin confirmed. “He's addressing the angels in Heart Hall, but he's broadcasting to everyone.” The two listeners fell silent for a moment, and the hunters all waited as patiently as possible. Identical looks of shock covered Ash and Kevin's faces seconds later. 

“What?” John tried to whisper, but it came out strangled.

“He's apologizing.” Kevin's voice was soft and breathless. 

Ash rushed to write the words down. “He's saying he was wrong...something about purpose...”

“He'd forgotten his and Heaven's purpose, but they have a second chance. God gave them back their purpose, and it starts now,” Kevin explained, his words growing ominous and slow by the end.

“He's calling for healers and reports,” Ash added. Then, both men jumped and yanked out their earbuds while Pamela let out another painful hiss. “Damn! Everyone started talking at once as soon as the boss man finished his speech.”

“What did he mean by purpose?” Caleb spoke up. The hunter rarely spoke in group discussion, preferring to keep his conversations between one or two people at a time. It had always been his way.

“I'm not sure,” Kevin answered when Ash deferred to him. “But it's got every angel beyond ecstatic.”

“No kidding! I think half of them are just singing. The rest are screaming orders over the weird chanting chorus.” Ash shook his head. “Angels are weird, man.”

“So, what do we do now?” Isaac joined his wife in grabbing an angel blade. 

“We need to secure the communities,” Tamara said. Ellen and Ash both nodded—their priorities were always the souls they protected. 

“I'll strengthen our wards from here, but we need people on the ground,” Ash said. He set aside the pad and pen to resume typing. “Tamara, take Isaac and Charlie to the Big Three. Let them know to prepare for anything. I'll fortify what I can, but have them check everything manually there. And see if they can spare a few people to visit the smaller communities. Spread the word.”

“Keep it strong, bitches!” Charlie called as she danced past them to grab a blade and her bag. Tamara drew the symbols onto the door that would take them straight to the first of their three largest community. They glowed as grace poured into them. Isaac handed her a bag, and the three of them ducked into the bright light of Heaven's hallways.

“I'm gonna check our own wards,” said Ellen. Jo followed her when Pamela reassured her she'd be fine. They left Bill in charge of the PBR supply. 

Bobby took the stool next to Ash. He felt John and Rufus stand close behind him, and saw Caleb and Pastor Jim sit on the other side of Kevin. The five men, plus Tamara and Isaac, were usually the ones who went into the thick of things in Heaven. Reconnaissance, soul rescues, and any potentially dangerous situations were their specialties. 

Mary had made their numbers even, allowing them to break into four teams of two. Her absence felt like an echo in the room. They all tried not to look where she'd normally stand. 

“Okay folks,” Ash said, finally pausing in his typing to look at them. “We need more information and eyes in places we don't normally venture. Right now, Heaven is lighting up in ways I haven't seen since the Apocalypse. I don't know if it's because there's an archangel up here or if the angels are doing something intentionally.”

“What can we do?” Pastor Jim asked.

“I need you and Caleb to take Kevin to Raphael's old office. Kev's gonna bug it in case he returns. The Healer's whole area was abandoned long before he died, so we never bothered doing anything beyond snooping. But if he comes back, I want a direct line.” Ash wrote a few things on a fresh piece of paper and handed it to Kevin who shoved it into a pocket. The two hunters nodded, and gathered their gear. 

“Rufus and John, you're gonna get word out to our patrols and secure the soul entrance. Make sure we don't get any interference with newcomers. It's a hell of a lot easier getting them fresh from Earth than having to pull them from a broken personal Heaven hidden somewhere.”

“Me?” John asked tersely. Bobby felt the same knee-jerk reaction—Rufus was _his_ partner. What was Ash's reason for splitting them up?

“Yeah, I know. You and Rufus don't normally work together,” Ash reassured with a sheepish smile. “But Bobby's the only one who's actually remembers meeting Michael. I need his brain to give me answers, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

John looked between Ash and Bobby with a hint of suspicion. Bobby shrugged, just as lost. For a moment, it looked like John was going to argue, but eventually relented. “Fine. But if you hear anything, and I mean  _anything,_ about Mary or the boys, you contact me. Deal?” He held his hand out to shake on it.

Some of the tension drained from the computer genius' frame at the agreement. “Sure thing, amigo!” Ash spit in his palm and slapped their hands together. 

John made a face, but allowed it. They had bigger things to worry about than a little spit. “Come on. Let's see if you can still keep up, old man.”

“Old man?!” Rufus glared indignantly, but without real heat. “I'll be runnin' circles around the likes of your ugly ass before we reach the first patrol.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” John called over his shoulder. He clasped Bobby's shoulder before they left, looking the hunter in the eye. “Anything about Mary or the boys...”

“I know,” Bobby said. 

John nodded, and reluctantly moved away. Rufus handed him his gear. Everyone's bags contained extra chalk for marking doors, first aid supplies, and makeshift walkie-talkies made by Ash and Charlie. Rufus wiped down the door, clearing the symbols made by Tamara and drawing new ones. 

When they left, Pastor Jim repeated the process. Kevin stood wedged between the pastor and Caleb, looking nervous but determined. He was a ballsy little guy, but his time as a prophet had prepared him for far worse than what he'd experienced so far in Heaven. 

“We really need to put in more doors,” Pamela remarked. She shakily made her way to the bar and took Kevin's seat. 

“You alright there, Pam?” Bill asked quietly.

She waved off his concern. “I'm fine. I'd be better with something a bit stronger than water, though, if you don't mind.” 

Bill nodded with a grin, and mixed her a whiskey sour. She downed it in one go and he handed her a second before she could ask. Heaven may have the best liquors, but it took quite a bit for souls to feel the effect. It was helpful for when they needed to sober up quickly, but not so good when they sought the numbness it offered. 

“So, what did you need to know?” Bobby asked.

“What?” Ash looked confused for a second, then blushed. Bobby raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh, right. I may have lied a little.”

“Excuse me?” That was not what Bobby expected to hear. They didn't operate on secrets here. 

“Yeah, see the thing is, I needed you for something else. And I knew John wouldn't be happy.” Ash took a long draw from his beer. 

“Go on,” Bobby said, frowning.

“I want your eyes in Michael's office. I need access to that changing window that looks into all the areas of Heaven. It's the only way we can physically see different regions without spreading our numbers any thinner.”

Bobby's frown deepened. “Okay. But why did you need John out of the way for that?”

“Because there's only so much we can learn from observation.” Ash hesitated, then continued. “And I think you might consider talking to Michael.”

“You what now?”

Ash jumped up, rushing to explain as he gathered items from around the room and shoved them into a gear bag. “I can track him from here while you get eyes on him in that window, and we've got a few angel EMPs that will mess with their grace. If you need out fast, they'll buy you enough time to escape through our backdoors.” He returned to his seat and set the bag in front of Bobby on the bar. “Everything I've heard tells me that this Michael is very different from the one we knew before. From his window, you'll be able to see if it's true. And getting him alone, fresh from his time with dear old Dad, might be our best bet.”

Bobby stared at him. He knew that they'd been struggling. The pressure of keeping souls safe wore daily on all of them. Most of the time, it felt like they were barely keeping their heads above water. But this still felt like a suicide run. “Our best bet for what?”

“For getting answers. And to initiate some kind of negotiations with a real leader—someone the other angels will definitely follow. We can't...” he broke off to finish his beer in a rare display of flustered emotion. “We can't keep going the way we are. The souls are entering faster than we can help. And there are still too many personal heavens we can't reach because they're too dangerous to navigate. We don't have the numbers or knowledge to get through the collapsed areas. We need help.”

“Okay,” Bobby said, patting the overwhelmed genius on the back. If this is what was needed, then he would do it. “So I'll get in there, see what's happening, and if it looks like Michael's not about to restart the Apocalypse, then I'll wait for him.” Suddenly, having John out of the picture made a lot of sense. 

“He feels different,” Pamela spoke up. She sipped her third whiskey sour and turned to them. The tension on her face had eased some, but it wasn't gone. “Michael—he doesn't feel like he did last time he was in Heaven. Before, he was like an empty void. No rage or fire at all, just cold and blank like there was nothing left of him. But now, he's bursting with emotion and energy.”

“'Bursting' how?” Bobby asked. 

“Joy, excitement, relief, and love are blending with overwhelming grief. If he were human, I'd say he was crying right now.”

Bobby blinked in shock. “A crying archangel? Damn.” Ash stayed quiet, listening through his headphones with a slight frown. “What's wrong?”

Ash shook his head. “For some reason, no one is saying the name 'Winchester.' There's lots of murmurs about the fledgling, but no one has any answers and no word of the kid's identity. Which makes me think the Host is in the dark.”

Bobby nodded slowly. The angels didn't know the hunters could listen in on their conversations. And they were notorious for gossiping about anything and everything they deemed important. If they weren't talking about the identity of the fledgling, then they didn't know it. “So, I should ask about Sam and Mary. Yeah, John would've demanded he go in personally with guns blazing like a fool.”

“He's not known for being an unemotional negotiator,” Pamela said with a knowing grin. 

“Or a negotiator at all,” Ellen said, rejoining the group. Jo followed close on her heels as they resumed their place behind the bar. 

“Ain't that the truth,” Bobby huffed. “Alright. Let's get this show on the road.”

It took no time at all for him to grab what his gear and draw the necessary symbols on the door. They'd memorized the different 'keys' to all the various locations they could access. He gave a nod to the others as he opened the door.

“You better come back to us, Bobby Singer!” Ellen yelled after him.

“Can't get rid of me that easily,” he called back over his shoulder. The door shut behind him and he was alone.

Ash had been the first to figure out how to navigate his way through Heaven's different regions. Since then, they'd built their own paths where there were none. It took less effort than it probably should to get from the Roadhouse to the head archangel's office. 

Bobby knew this room well. They often utilized the window when there was shit going down in Heaven. The angels all seemed to avoid Michael's room like a plague, but it served the hunters' needs perfectly. Even Metatron had stayed away from it. 

“Okay, I'm in,” Bobby whispered into the walkie-talkie. “Am I still clear?” 

“All good, my man,” Ash's voice crackled softly over the speaker. “You got eyes on anyone yet?”

“Bringing it up now,” Bobby answered. The window currently showed a dark room, empty except for some rubble. His fingers flew over the glyphs on the wall, and the image shifted to Heart Hall. “I'm looking at the Heart. Michael's leading a group out now. Oh, Jesus Christ...”

“What?” Ash asked when Bobby didn't continue.

“He's got a vessel. It looks like someone went and got himself a younger model of John.”

“Good thing Johnny-boy's no where near there then,” Pamela said. 

“No kidding,” Bobby muttered to himself. 

He followed them as much as he could with the window, but it didn't show hallways. Once they left Heart Hall, he'd have to wait for them to show up again. Ash assured him that they weren't headed toward the offices, so Bobby checked the other areas available for viewing. 

“It seems like all the angels have gathered in Heart Hall for now. Except Joshua, but he never leaves the Garden,” he said, updating the others. 

The window showed strange places the hunters had never been able to visit. They'd spent many hours speculating what those unnamed areas were used for, but they had no way of knowing for sure. Some seemed like offices while others contained weird looking pods. Charlie thought they were for making aliens, and Bobby agreed that they resembled things he'd seen in the movies.

He rotated through the different window options until Michael and his group reappeared in the Garden. He watched them for a while, unsure what they were doing exactly. It looked like a bizarre dance of arm movements. The speaker cracked with laughter from the Roadhouse crew when he tried to describe the sight. 

The longer he watched, the more he recognized the differences in Michael. It was in the way he smiled and moved, hugging the seraphs with love and gently touching them. All made even more disturbing when done with the body of his fellow hunter. And judging by the reactions from the seraphs every time Michael laughed or smiled, they were also unused to this side of the archangel. 

Bobby wished he could hear what they were discussing, but the window only allowed for a visual. Not that he could follow an Enochian conversation, but tone of voice went a long way into understanding what someone meant. “How are the others doing? Have you heard from them?” he asked while waiting. 

“Kevin wants to move into Raphael's office. I told him to leave everything how he found it, but I'm guessing he's probably packed away half the dude's library by now. Who knew archangels were such nerds? Grumpy Old Man and Grumpier have also checked in—several dozen times. All is well in the communities and the newcomer entrance so far. Looks like the angels are centered on the boss man's return—their usual patrols aren't even out and about.”

Bobby chuckled. “Which one is Grumpier?”

“Oh man,” Ash mumbled. “Both of them.”

Bobby shook his head and watched as the angels left Michael with three seraphs and Joshua. “Looks like they're on the move again. The group Michael brought to the Garden just ran outta there like they had somewhere important to be. Any change in the chatter?”

“Umm,” Ash paused. Bobby figured he was listening to them and waited. “Sounds like they're all healers. He's given them orders to go spread the healing among the Host or something.”

“Okay. As long as they ain't headed my way. Michael's on the move now too.” Bobby's eyes followed Michael as he led the three seraphs out of the Garden. After a few minutes of flipping through the different windows, he located him again back in Heart Hall. He soon found himself feeling uncomfortably voyeuristic. 

Michael was handed a stack of papers from a tiny blonde girl. Whatever he was being shown or told had an immediate effect on the archangel. Bobby wiped his mouth with a sigh as Michael stumbled, openly weeping in front of everyone. 

“Balls,” he whispered. “Ash?”

“Yeah, Pam-a-lama's feeling it too.” Ash's voice was soft, and Bobby heard Pamela crying in the background. “Lot's of heavy grief.”

“Well, at least we know he's capable of feeling _something_. Maybe he'll actually listen.” For the first time, Bobby felt a thrill of hope.

After that, Michael seemed to take a tour of Heaven. Bobby tried to keep up with all the places they visited, sending word to the Roadhouse with each new location. Some he recognized, but not all of them. And then, he suddenly heard Ash telling him that Michael had entered the office area and was headed his way.

Bobby had just enough time to sit down at the desk and hide the walkie-talkie, switching the button to 'talk' so the Roadhouse could hear if he needed a rescuing. 

* * *

Michael remained silent throughout Bobby's story. He had never been more impressed by humanity's abilities as he was in that moment. To learn that a group of humans were basically running half of Heaven? Unthinkable. Unbelievable. Incredible.

“It sounds like I owe you and your friends my deepest gratitude,” he said with a slight bow.

“What?” Bobby asked, surprise evident on his face. 

“You have succeeded where the angels failed,” Michael explained. He directed the hunter over toward a couch and they both sat. He couldn't remember ever taking the time to sit there before, and certainly not with another person. “Heaven has many purposes, Mr. Singer. It is home for the Host—has been since long before my Father ever sculpted a single planet. But its other great purpose is to be home for souls who have passed. In that, we have failed.”

“Well, it's not like there was much choice when Metatron took over.” Bobby shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the praise.

“Yes, but we failed long before then.” Michael sighed. “We have not cared for souls—we stored them. But it sounds like you have found a better way. Communities? I never considered such an idea!” 

“Souls are people. People need other people, even if they _are_ dead.”

“I'm starting to see that.” Michael nodded, agreeing with his point. “So, tell me—you said you needed answers and assurances. How can I help you with those?”

Bobby took a deep breath. “I need assurances that the angels aren't gonna swoop in and shut us down. We've got a good system in place, but...”

“But?” Michael gently encouraged when the hunter didn't immediately continue.

“But honestly? We could use some support.” Bobby's eyes met the archangel's own, his gaze challenging. “If you're serious about caring about the souls in this joint, then you gotta know your system is shit. Personal Heavens are a joke. Most are collapsing on a structural level, and we can only reach a small percentage. And I don't mean we need help 'storing' souls back into their tiny boxes. I mean we need to get them outta there and into the larger communities we've started.”

Michael tilted his head, in awe of the human. He'd met Bobby Singer once before—the man's courage had only grown since then. “I can promise that we will not 'shut you down.' In fact, I am intrigued by your system. I would like to send my architects to assist, as well as my Soul Inspector. Puriel has been quite distraught by the fact that he could not access the Souls' Heaven for some time now.”

Bobby stared back blankly for a second. Then he exhaled, and shook his head in disbelief. “Um, thank you. We'd appreciate it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Singer. You and your friends have performed an invaluable service to Heaven and my family. I am eternally in your debt.”

“That's not something ya hear everyday,” the hunter said with a smile. “And it's Bobby. My father was 'Mr. Singer.' And I ain't him.”

“Of course, Bobby,” Michael conceded. “Now, any other assurances I can offer? I know you had some questions.”

“Oh, I got questions. First, I wanna know where Mary Winchester is and why she got taken.”

Michael held up his hand, stopping the man before he got too worked up. “Rest assured, Mary Winchester is quite well. My aunt resurrected her as a gift. It seems Dean Winchester left a lasting impression on my aunt during their encounters, and she wished to thank him for reuniting her with my Father. In fact, I just saw Mary before I returned to Heaven, and she was with both of her sons.”

“Good. That leads me to my next question.” Bobby's eyes narrowed. “I wanna know why I heard Sam Winchester screaming when that wave of grace tore through this place.”

 


	3. Now Your Life's No Longer Empty

Michael studied the hunter, fascinated by the mixture of gruff confidence and cautious uncertainty. 

What was it about the Winchesters and their associates that made humans willing to ignore their instinct to cower in the face of an archangel and make demands instead?  Perhaps it was a hunter thing.  Or maybe humans lost their awe of the Host sometime after God left them. 

Whatever the reason, Michael found himself pleased by the honest reactions.  “You recognized Samuel's voice?” he asked. 

Bobby sucked in a breath at the confirmation and nodded.  “Yeah.”

“You are an amazing soul, Bobby Singer.”

The man frowned.  “I don't need butterin' up.  Just tell me what happened to my boys.”

“I do not have all the details yet myself, but I can tell you the basics.”  Michael smiled, hoping it would be enough to appease the anxious man.

“I ain't getting any younger,” Bobby gestured for him to continue.

“When Amara reunited with my Father, She decided to bestow a gift on Dean Winchester for his efforts and resurrected his mother.  Similarly, my Father offered a gift of healing to Samuel.  He used His own grace to repair Samuel’s damaged soul, merging the two together.”

“Damage from the Cage?”

“And other events that have transpired since then.”

“Your Daddy’s grace—it changed Sam into some kinda angel kid?” Bobby asked hesitantly. 

“Into a fledgling, yes.”  Michael worried about the hunter's reaction.  Would he care less for the boy knowing he was no longer human?  “It reformed his body.  But he remains Samuel Winchester with all his memories intact.  It is a second chance—not a 'do over,' as I believe you humans like to say.”

Some of the tension drained out of the man at this news.  “Well, that's good, I guess.  So, he's physically a kid again?  Because that was _not_ adult-Sam's voice I heard.”

Michael nodded.  “A side-effect of the grace healing, I believe.  Raphael could probably explain it better.  Samuel appeared to be quite young—around six, perhaps?”

“You've seen him?” Bobby asked quietly, the tension returning.

“I was returning to Heaven when I heard his cry.  Raphael and I went to investigate and assist.  Apparently, a group of humans took Samuel using weapons stolen from Heaven.  The weapons were recovered and Samuel is in the care of his family.”  Michael looked away, unable to meet the human’s gaze.  “I left as soon as I was assured he would be alright.  My presence is understandably upsetting to him.”

“What happened when he was taken?”  Bobby demanded.  “He don’t make sounds like that over a stubbed toe.”

“They hurt him quite severely,” Michael felt the rage burn through his grace at the memory, and it took a moment for him to continue speaking.  “It was not life-threatening.  And he is in the hands of the best Healer besides my Father.”

“Let me get this straight.”  Bobby stood and began to pace the room.  “God healed Sam, turning him into a kid-angel.  Then, humans took and tortured him.  And you left _Raphael_ with them?”

“Gabriel is there too,” Michael added.  “But I believe he's been with them for a little while now.”

“Dean actually agreed to all this?”  Bobby faced him, hands crossed over his chest.

“He had a few conditions which I have adhered to them.  But he did seem to accept Gabriel's presence.  He left Samuel in my brother’s care long enough to make his demands known to me.  I understand such an act would require some amount of trust for either Winchester.”

“You’re telling me Dean let Sam out of his sight after they’d been forcefully separated?”  Bobby shook his head.  “I'm dead a few years, and everything changes.”

“Yes,” Michael agreed, “I find myself learning a similar lesson.  Time does not stop just because we are no longer present to be part of it.  Nor do the consequences of our actions disappear with our absence.”

“Tell me about it,” Bobby huffed with an empty laugh.

Michael tilted his head in confusion.  “I thought I just did.”

The hunter stared at him, shaking his head.  “It’s an expression.  You’re just like Cas when we first met him.”

“Oh,” Michael considered the comparison, not quite sure how to take it, “Well, Castiel seems to have adjusted over time, so perhaps there is hope for me yet.”

“I’m having a hard time picturing that idjit as anything close to ‘adjusted’ but I’ll take your word for it.”

“You will?”

“With a grain of salt, maybe.”

“Is that another expression?”

Bobby laughed again, warmer and with actual humor this time.  “Yeah.  Hang out with humans once in a while and you’ll pick up all kinds of new phrases.”

A knock at the door startled both of them.  The office acted as a buffer with the door closed, allowing Michael to concentrate without the constant stream of chatter from the Host.  He hadn’t even realized how quiet things were in his mind since entering the room—he was used to the silence.

Michael reached with his grace to see who was interrupting, and he almost ran to open the door.  He managed to control his pace, but there was no hiding his enthusiasm as he nearly wrenched the door off its hinges. 

“ **Brother** ,” he said breathlessly, throwing himself around the other archangel. 

Raphael easily caught him, gathering him closer with a similar desperation.  Michael felt his brother’s vessel trembling.  They stood there, wrapped in arms and wings, taking solace in each other’s presence.

“ **I saw the Host gathered in Heart Hall.  Michael, they—** ” Raphael’s deep rumble broke with emotion.

“ **I know, Raphael.  I have the healers working as fast as possible to see them restored, but the situation is more dire than we had anticipated.** ”  Michael stepped back.  He saw the weight of grief in the Healer’s eyes, and knew it mirrored his own. 

Raphael nodded.  “ **I heard—the seraphs were eager to give me updates when I arrived.  It took me awhile to reach you.** ”

“ **I am glad you have returned,** ” he murmured into his younger brother’s shoulder.

“Hello,” a gruff voice said, reminding Michael of the hunter in his office.

“My apologies,” Michael said, leading Raphael further into the room and shutting the door.  “Bobby Singer, this is my brother Raphael.”

“I figured,” Bobby grunted, looking awkward.  “We’ve kinda met.”

“Yes,” Raphael said with a wry smile, “You were one of the last faces I saw before my Father reformed me.” 

“If it counts for anything, we were there to stop Cas.  Didn’t really count on him blowin’ you up.”

“That was certainly a surprise.”  Raphael chuckled as he moved to gaze out the window into the Garden.  “I suppose it served me right—I did kill him first, after all.”

Bobby’s eyes darted between the two archangels as though searching for something.  “That’s mighty forgiving of you.”

“Castiel would never have been pushed into such a desperate position had I not sought to restart the Apocalypse.  I carry most of the blame.  And I have no desire for vengeance—only healing.  The two cannot coexist.”

“Not for long, anyway.”  Bobby leaned against Michael’s desk, keeping his eyes trained on the Healer.  “I hear you’ve been with Sam.”

“How is he?” Michael asked, his thoughts finally settling after their emotional reunion.  “I’ve told Bobby about Samuel’s situation, but I know so little myself…”

Raphael sighed—a heavy, weary sound that made both Michael and Bobby straighten up with worry.  “Samuel is many things,” he finally answered.  A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he turned away from the Garden to face them.  “He is a fascinatingly unique creature, capable of more determination and will than I have witnessed in most full-gown angels.  I fear that fortitude will lead to trouble the likes of which we have not known since Gabriel was a fledgling.” 

“Yeah, he’s always been a stubborn one,” Bobby agreed.  “What about his injuries?”

Raphael’s smile disappeared.  “Physically, he is completely healed—which was a battle unto itself.  The injuries to his body were easy enough.  The burns to his grace were more difficult, and Samuel fought against being healed until it was unavoidable.  Emotionally?”  He shook his head.  “He continues to insist he is ‘fine’ even in the face of night terrors and outbursts of rage.  The more pain he is in, the harder he tries to hide it.  I have grown to detest the word ‘fine.’”

Shame made Michael want to crawl under his desk.  He knew the memories causing Samuel’s suffering—he’d been responsible for many of them.  For a fledgling to now carry such scars was unforgiveable. 

Bobby chuckled, and Michael felt a flicker of anger temporarily replace his shame.  He saw nothing amusing about Raphael’s words!  But then, the hunter spoke and Michael understood the humor was not in regard to the boy’s pain.

“Welcome to ‘Raising a Winchester 101,’” Bobby said, patting Raphael on the shoulder.  “They’ve been tough little shits their whole lives.  You think pint-sized Sam’s hard to deal with?  Try making a six-foot-four wall of muscle lay down and take a nap, or eat a damn sandwich.  Or better yet, try doing that when you’ve got two of ‘em.  If Sam and Dean set their minds on something together, then you better have a secret weapon on hand.  Otherwise, it’s like screaming at the sun to tone it down.”

Raphael grimaced at the idea.  “I shall count my blessings that both brothers were not changed into fledglings.  One is exhausting enough.  I understand now why Gabriel insists on resting when the opportunity arises.”

“I still can’t believe the boys are letting the Trickster stay with them.”  Bobby wiped his face with his hand.  “Especially Dean.  Cas is one thing, but Gabriel?  I can’t see it.”

“Really?” Raphael asked, his eyes bright.  “I dare say much has changed since last you saw him.  Gabriel would probably smite anyone who suggests he part from the Winchesters.  He adores all three of them, and he is fiercely attached to Samuel.  In fact, Gabriel almost destroyed the Earth in his attempt to reunite with his charge.”

“He what?” Bobby asked, horrified.  Michael could only imagine the images those words inspired—especially for a man who had fought against archangels bent on destroying his world.

Raphael grinned, which seemed to further disturb the hunter.  “It was not on purpose—merely a miscalculation in his trajectory and a disregard for his own limits with speed.  The humans had banished him and Castiel out of Earth’s solar system, and he was determined to return as quickly as possible.”

“So, Gabriel’s taken a liking to the boys and their momma.  That don’t explain why they’re letting him stay.”

“He has not tricked them, or manipulated their minds, if that is your fear,” Raphael reassured.  “I am aware that their history was not ideal, but the affection between them all is mutual.  Gabriel dotes on them, and they look to him as the head of their flock—even if they do not entirely realize it.  Dean calls him ‘Gabe’ and they play with each other like brothers.  They constantly engage in verbal sparring matches, but it is done with joy.  And Samuel…”  Raphael sighed, a soft smile gracing his vessel’s lips.

“And Sam?” Bobby prodded when the archangel paused for too long. 

Michael sensed the waves of fondness from his brother and knew Raphael was lost in memories.  He hoped to see the things the Healer described with his own eyes one day.

“Samuel loves Gabriel.  He calls for my brother when he wakes from nightmares, and gravitates toward him always.  He trusts Gabriel enough to seek comfort from him.  And Gabriel works hard to ensure that he does nothing to break that fragile trust.”  Raphael’s eyes shifted to Michael with a knowing look.  “I shall endeavor to be a steadying influence on both menaces.  I fear them as a united force—they will likely drive us all to madness with pranks.”

“Father help us all,” Michael mumbled, closing his eyes.  “If Samuel is anything like Gabriel, they will have Heaven in flames within a century.”

Bobby barked out a laugh.  “You do realize that Sam was raised by Dean Winchester, right?  I’d just start stocking up on fire extinguishers now.”

Several staccato bursts of static suddenly came from Michael’s desk.  The archangels quickly turned, unused to such a sound. 

_What is that?_ Michael silently asked his brother.

Raphael frowned and stepped closer to investigate.  _I do not know.  It sounds like…_

“Balls!” Bobby exclaimed under his breath.  His face was bright red as he reached under the desk and pulled out a small metal box. 

“What is that?” Michael repeated out loud, mystified by the strange object.  He had never seen such a thing in Heaven.

“It is a communication device of some kind, is it not?” Raphael asked.

“Yeah,” Bobby answered sheepishly, “It’s a walkie-talkie.  Keeps me in touch with our home base.”  He flipped a switch on the side, then pressed a button and spoke into it.  “I’m good, Ash.” 

There was a moment of silence.  Then, the speaker crackled again.  “You sure?  Do you need an _off-ramp?_ ”

Bobby rolled his eyes.  “No, Ash.  No off-ramps necessary.”

“What about...a _snack cake?_ ”

“No!  Damn it, Ash, keep the _snack cakes_ at the bar!  I’m fine!” 

“Geeze, fine.  Sounds like you need a nap.”

“I…” Bobby trailed off in confusion, then turned away and whispered, “I don’t even remember that code.  What the hell’s a ‘nap’ stand for again?”

“It stands for ‘sleeping in the middle of the day because you’re a cranky old guy.”

The hunter scowled, blushing even harder.  “Good-bye, Ash.  I’ll let you know when I’m headed back to kick your ass,” he grumbled.

“Home base?” Raphael asked.

Michael grinned, excited to finally share some good news with his brother.  “Wait till you hear what the human souls have been up to in our absence.”

He let Bobby explain about the soul communities, and the hunters who headed the effort.  Raphael’s reactions were priceless.  Pure joy and curiosity blended together as he launched into questions.  Michael didn’t envy the poor human—his brother was tenacious when he found something new to learn about.

As they discussed the growing issues of the souls’ Heavens, Michael sent a silent word for Puriel to return to his office with the Architect Charmeine when they’d finished being healed.  He watched from his window as the little Soul Inspector nodded down in the Garden.  It wasn’t long before they heard a soft knock at the door.

“Puriel, Charmeine, thank you for returning,” he said in English for Bobby’s sake, and ushered them into his office.

The seraphs stared at him in confusion.  No angel spoke any language other than Enochian when they were in Heaven.  But before they could ask about it, they saw Raphael and gasped.

“ **Healer!** ” Charmeine burst out, her hands clutched to her chest.

Raphael smiled and moved forward to embrace the seraphs.  He wrapped them both in his arms.  “Hello, my little angels.  I have missed you.”

Charmeine made a sound between a laugh and a sob while Puriel tentatively raised an arm to hold onto the archangel.  When they stepped away from each other, Michael saw tears in all their eyes.

Then, those eyes went wide as they caught sight of Bobby.

“Sir?” Puriel squeaked.  “A…a soul, sir!  How…?”

“I have discovered the reason you lost access to the souls, Puriel,” Michael said with a grin and Puriel took a step back.

“Really, sir?”

“Yes.  The souls have organized themselves in our absence.”  He wasn’t disappointed by the seraphs’ reactions.

Their mouths dropped open in shock.  Puriel’s wings actually flared out, hitting Charmeine and knocking her back several steps.  Raphael made a disapproving noise at the sight of the ragged, barely useable, appendages.

“Organized?  The souls are running free?  How?” Puriel asked in a horrified whisper.  He looked at Bobby like he was seeing the hunter for the first time. 

“We ain’t children,” Bobby said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “or zoo animals.  We had to do something when the walls started crumbling down around us and there weren’t no angels there to fix it.  Besides, a bunch of us have dealt with angels and the supernatural on Earth enough to know when we’re being kept in a dream-world.  We don’t like it.”

“But…but…but…” Puriel stuttered.

Charmeine nudged her way next to the Soul Inspector, eyes trained on the hunter.  “How bad is the damage?”

“Bad,” Bobby answered.

“Puriel and Charmeine,” Michael said to get their attention, “This is Bobby Singer.  He has informed me of several problems concerning our system for the souls.  I would like you to go with him.  He can show you the structural issues and introduce you to their communities.”

“Communities?  As in ‘more than one?’”  Puriel asked.

“We got three major communities, with a couple hundred _people_ living in each.  And there’s a dozen or so smaller ones still forming with about twenty to thirty folks a piece.  But there are billions still trapped in Heavens that are breaking more and more every day.”  Bobby stepped closer and shoved his hands into faded jean pockets.  “We’d appreciate any help we can get—as long as you don’t start locking us back into our boxes.”

The seraphs looked to Michael for direction, and the archangel nodded in agreement.  “Raphael, I’d like you to accompany them for introductions.”  He saw the Healer raise a questioning eyebrow, and Michael gave a sad smile.  “I would go myself, but I believe my presence would not be very welcome.”

Bobby snorted.  “Not with that face.”

“Yes,” Michael gave a very non-John-like smile, “I am not entirely sure why my Father chose to create this particular vessel for me.  Perhaps that is a lesson I shall learn with time.  For now, I will do all I can for the Winchester family and their friends—both in Heaven and on Earth.”

Puriel and Charmeine exchanged confused looks at the name “Winchester,” and Michael realized he would have to start testing the waters among his younger siblings.  If they were to work with this group of hunters, then they’d soon learn the identity of the fledgling.  He only hoped these two did not have a personal history with the well-known brothers.

“I can accompany them to meet with the hunters as long as I am able to return to the bunker by morning.  Otherwise, Gabriel will fuss at me for being late to breakfast.”  Raphael gave a long-suffering sigh, but Michael knew better.  With a new fledgling and the return of the Messenger, Raphael was likely torn between being with them and his desire to rebuild Heaven. 

“Then go now.  Father knows, I do not want to deal with an angry Gabriel.  And I am sure Bobby’s friends will be eager for updates about the Winchesters.”  Michael turned to the seraphs who looked ready to burst with questions.  “I must ask for the utmost discretion from you both.  You will soon learn details about a very delicate situation—specifically, the identity of our newest fledgling.”

The seraphs nodded solemnly, but a burst of excitement flowed through their grace.  “Of course, sir,” Charmeine agreed.

“I do not want word of this reaching the Host until I have determined it safe enough,” Michael insisted.

“Sir,” Puriel started tentatively, “I am confused.  You are acting as though we would know the babe’s identity.  But how is that possible when the fledgling is a new creation?”

Michael glanced at the Healer and received a nod.  “Raphael will explain.  Go now—there is much work to be done, and I must finish my conversation with Ingrid.”

Charmeine smirked, and Michael felt some of his tension drain to see it directed his way.  “We passed her in the hall on our way here.  Her stack of reports has grown ten-fold since you last saw her.”

Raphael clapped him on the back, then pulled him into a hug.  “Good luck, brother.  I know how much you enjoy administrative duties and paperwork.”

_You are an ass, Raphael,_ Michael said silently.

The Healer’s laugh rolled through the room, startling the seraphs and human.  _You are going to have to work on your insults, or else Gabriel will wipe the floor with you.  And do not get me started on Samuel’s creative language abilities—the child swears worse than Balthazar and Gabriel combined._

_Father save us!  I pray your guidance will influence the child._   Michael hugged his brother, feeling lighter than he had since returning to Heaven.  Hope was a powerful thing—and love inspired wondrous amounts of hope.

“I will come find you before I return to Earth,” Raphael promised.

“Please do!”  Michael said, then turned to the others.  “Keep an open mind and a discreet tongue, seraphs.  You will learn a great many things today.  Bobby Singer—it has been a pleasure to see you again.  I look forward to many more conversations with you.  Please know that you are always welcome here.  If you need me for any reason, just send me a prayer.”

“I appreciate it.”  Bobby pulled a hand out of his pocket and thrust it toward the archangel.  Michael stared at it for a moment, not entirely sure if anyone had ever asked to shake his hand before.  The hunter cleared his throat.  “You’re supposed to shake it.”

“Yes.  Yes, I know,” Michael said in a rush, clasping the man’s hand.  Warm happiness spread through his vessel at the easy gesture.  “I meant what I said earlier—you are an amazing soul, Bobby Singer.  There are few humans who would have the courage to seek me out, let alone put me in my place.”

“Get used to it,” Bobby huffed.  “If half the things you said are true, then you’ll be dealing with the ballsiest group of humans in creation.”

“I look forward to it.”  Michael watched them file out of his office.  He saw Ingrid waiting for him, arms heavy with stacks of reports.  Sighing, he waved her in.

* * *

Raphael followed Bobby Singer through Heaven’s halls.  Signs of battles and neglect surrounded them.  He saw it in everything from the cracked walls to the few seraphs they passed along the way.  He felt it as an ache within his own grace. 

They remained mostly silent until they reached an abandoned area.  Bobby had been nervous walking among the angels, and Raphael asked him how he normally avoided running into them.  He gave a vague explanation involving chalk sigils and hackers.

As they walked, there was a growing tension of curious energy emanating off Puriel and Charmeine. He wondered which one would break the silence and ask the questions that were clearly gnawing at their minds.  It didn’t take long to learn the answer.

“Sir, what did the Commander mean about the fledgling?” Charmeine asked.  She received an elbow to her ribs from Puriel for her trouble, which she quickly returned, knocking the smaller angel into a pile of rubble. 

Bobby shot them an amused look, then gestured for Raphael to go ahead and answer.  “May as well tell them now.  I don’t want them freaking out around the hunters—there’ll be enough drama as-is without them adding to it.”

“Our Father did not make this angel in His traditional way.  Instead, He remade a human by blending their soul with His grace.  This human is well-known throughout the Host—a man we gravely mistreated since his birth.  Our actions and perceptions were wrong, and there is concern that this attitude may linger even after his identity is revealed.”  Raphael stopped walking and faced the seraphs.  “For this reason, we are entrusting only a few of you at a time with this knowledge.  I will not tolerate any slander or negativity toward the boy, and you would do well to remember that he is firmly under the protection of Gabriel, Michael, and myself.”

“Oh God,” Puriel whispered, “it’s one of the Winchester brothers, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Raphael answered firmly, staring them down.  “Father healed Samuel’s soul using His own grace.  You are the Soul Inspector, Puriel.  Tell me—have you ever seen a soul shredded?”

“ _Shredded?!_ ”  Puriel looked sick at the thought.  “No, sir.  N-never!”

“Samuel spent two centuries trapped in the Cage with two furious archangels.”  Raphael turned to Charmeine.  “You are an Architect.  Lucifer’s Cage was made from grace and forged in deepest levels of Hell.  Do you know what it does to a human soul over that amount of time?”

Charmeine shook her head, unable to speak. 

Puriel gasped and his wings flared in alarm.  “I…I hadn’t thought about it before, but…” he broke off, unable to continue.

“Yes, I don’t imagine many of us considered what would happen when he fell with our brothers.  Nor did we care.”  Raphael’s own guilt sat heavy in his vessel’s chest—a constant ache that had yet to find relief.  “Combined with Samuel’s attempts to complete the trials to close the gates to Hell and Gadreel subsequently taking him as a vessel without consent, the damage was beyond repair for anyone but God Himself.  And even then, it took extreme measures.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” both seraphs answered shakily. 

Raphael found no deceit in either angel—only overwhelming sadness and horror.  He knew it would take them a while to process the full extent of the information.  Like the fact that their newest sibling would carry all the memories and scars of that time.  He hoped that their instinctive need to love and protect fledglings overrode any lingering dislike for the Winchesters.

“Good,” he finally said.  Glancing at Bobby, he cursed himself for being so blunt.  The hunter’s eyes were filled with devastation at the reminder of the pain his surrogate son had survived.  The Healer rested his hand on the man’s shoulder, offering as much comfort as he thought might be accepted.  “The people we are visiting are all friends and family to the Winchester brothers.  They do not know about Samuel’s change yet.”

Puriel and Charmeine looked at each other, nodding. 

“We understand,” Charmeine said.

“I know that you have all had to adjust to many extreme changes over recent years.”  Raphael offered them an encouraging smile.  “You have survived without proper guidance and leadership for far too long.  But our Father has seen this, and taken action to set us on a new path toward healing and restoration.  Now is the time for celebration!”  He stepped closer to the seraphs, gently placing a palm on the side of each face.  “Our family has a new baby—one who has never known the love of Heaven. It will take all of us to prove we are worthy of his trust, but only one to destroy what progress has been made.”

“That ‘one’ will not be me, sir!” Charmeine promised.

“Nor me!” Puriel added.

Raphael pulled them close and brushed a kiss to their temples.  “That is good to know.”

“You better not let Sam hear you call him the ‘new baby’ or you’ll have a riot on your hands.”  Bobby’s amused voice reminded them they were not alone. 

Raphael chuckled, letting go of his siblings.  “Samuel has already heard it from Gabriel.”

“And Gabriel survived?”

“He did indeed.  Though, I must ask—was Samuel always so adorable when expressing indignant outrage as a child?”

Bobby’s laughter echoed through the empty hall.  “Well, it’s good to know nothing’s changed there!  He was a moody little feller, for sure.  It became less cute when he grew up, but as a kid?  He was like an angry kitten who’d spit and jump sideways at ya!”

“I thought the exact same thing,” Raphael said, thinking back to his first encounter with Samuel a few days prior.

They followed Bobby to a dusty door that led to an empty storage room.  He explained the basics of how they travelled without giving away too many details.  The angels watched in wonder as he drew sigils onto the door, activating the grace that formed the foundation.  Raphael felt humbled by the reminder of just how much they’d underestimated the ability of humans to adapt and grow.

Before opening the door, the hunter pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke.  “Ash, I’m coming back.  And I’m bringing some new friends with me.”

The speaker burst with static, then they heard, “Ten-four, good buddy!  Team-Grumps is back already, and Team-Prophet is on their way.  The others are still out in the communities, but they’re up-to-date with what’s happening.  See ya soon!” 

Tucking the communication device back into his bag, Bobby looked at the angels.  “Heads up—John Winchester will be there along with several other hunters.  And they will all be armed.  It’s just a precaution, but I thought you should know.”

Raphael nodded, and said, “I understand.  We will need to earn their trust.”  He glanced at the seraphs.  “Even if weapons are drawn, there will be no retaliation.  If a situation were to escalate, we shall simply leave until tempers have cooled.  We are here to provide assistance and learn from each other.”

The younger angels looked nervous, but nodded their understanding. 

Bobby sighed and opened the door.  “Welcome to the Roadhouse.”

Raphael shivered as he crossed the threshold.  He had never felt a personal Heaven modified by humans—it made his wings tingle.  It was distracting enough that he didn’t immediately register the people present.

Bobby rushed ahead of him to stand between the humans and angels, while the seraphs crowded close to the Healer’s back.  _Some things never change_ , Raphael thought to himself.  It had only been two days since Samuel had done the same while waking from a nightmare. 

“Greetings and salutations to our new holy feathered friends!”  A man with odd hair stood up from the bar and gave a clumsy bow. 

“Quit that, Ash,” Bobby muttered, smacking the younger hunter on the shoulder.  He cleared his throat.  “Everyone, this is Raphael.  The two angels with him are gonna help us.”  Bobby waved his hands in their direction, and blushed.  “I didn’t quite catch their names.  Purel and Shar-something?”

Raphael stepped aside and nudged the angels forward.  _Introduce yourselves,_ he said silently to them.

_Sir, they…they all have angel blades!_ Puriel turned horrified eyes to the archangel. 

_I know.  I suspect they helped themselves to one of the weapons’ stores when Heaven was vacated.  It is no matter—none are drawn.  Go ahead and introduce yourself._  Raphael encouraged, though he too was disturbed by the sight of his siblings’ weapons in the hands of humans.

“P-Puriel, at your service,” the little angel stammered, returning the bow to Ash with much more grace.  “I am the Soul Inspector—my job is to evaluate the souls as they enter Heaven.”

Charmeine huffed at the bow, and chose to simply nod.  “And I’m Charmeine, one of the Architects responsible for maintaining Heaven’s structures.  We are both here to learn about this new system of communities you’ve created, and assist in whatever way you need.”

“Fan-fuckin-tastic,” drawled a gruff voice from a booth in the corner.  “How do we know you aren’t just gonna zap us all back to our little boxes?”

Raphael recognized the man instantly.  “You are John Winchester.”

John drained a glass of liquor and slammed it down on the table before rising to his feet.  “Good to know my reputation precedes me.”

“It does indeed,” Raphael said, studying him.  He knew only a little about the boys’ father, but it was enough to know he should tread carefully.  “I have had the pleasure of getting to know your family the last few days.”

Silence fell over the room.  No one dared to even breathe as John slowly stalked forward.  He stopped directly in front of the archangel, completely unthreatened by the towering figure.  “What _exactly_ do you mean by that?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“I mean that since my return, I have been on Earth with your sons,” he paused, taking an unnecessary breath, “and your wife, Mary.”

“Mary’s there?  With my boys?” John whispered, all signs of posturing gone.  He was simply a man, broken again by grief and fear.  “Is she okay?”

“She is wonderful.  A brilliant woman of immense strength and compassion.”  Raphael smiled warmly.  “Your eldest son played a vital role in reuniting Amara with my Father.  And as a gift, Amara returned Mary to Dean.”

John glanced at Bobby who nodded in confirmation.  Letting out a relieved sigh, John scrubbed at his face with shaky hands.  “That…that’s good, I guess.  If she’s gonna be anywhere besides here, I’d want her to be with the boys.”  His eyes focused on Raphael again.  “What about them?  How are Sam and Dean?  Were they caught up in all that mess with that grace-blast?”

“That is a longer story,” Raphael said carefully and gestured for the hunter to take a seat.  No one moved.

“He’s right,” Bobby interceded when the archangel looked to him.  “Hey, Ellen—you care to grab a couple bottles of your best whisky?  We’re gonna need it.”

“Why?” John demanded, tense again.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Bobby reassured.  “The boys are fine.  There’s just a lot that’s happened, and story-time always goes better with alcohol.”

Raphael watched as Bobby and a young blonde girl pushed two smaller tables together.  Ellen carried two bottles to them while a man followed her with several glasses.  He set them on the table and held out a hand to the archangel.  “Name’s Bill Harvelle.  That’s my wife Ellen, and daughter Jo.”

Raphael grinned at the names.  “Ah!  Ellen and Jo—I have heard your names before!  And this is _the_ Roadhouse?”  He looked around the space with new eyes.

Jo froze for a second before crossing her arms over her chest.  “You’ve heard of us, huh?  Were Sam and Dean telling stories?”

“No, it was another pair of siblings—Alicia and Max Banes.  They spoke very fondly of you both.”

“Oh lord,” Jo mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Her mother laughed.  “I bet they had some stories,” she said, nudging her daughter.

Another hunter joined them by the table—an older man with a deeply lined face.  He carried his own bottle of liquor.  “Rufus Turner,” he grunted without offering his hand.  Raphael nodded to him.

“And I’m Pamela,” a dark-haired woman said with a smile.  She took a seat and patted the chair next to her in invitation.  “Why don’t you sit by me, sugar.  I won’t even need any of this ‘Heavenly alcohol’ with you by my side—I’ll be buzzed in no time.”

“Buzzed?” Raphael asked, taking the offered seat.  He heard the seraphs make a disgruntled noise at losing their shield.

“Mmm,” she hummed, smiling in a way that reminded him of the witch twins, “your grace is delightful.”

“Oh.  Thank you?”  The archangel wasn’t sure quite how to respond to the compliment.

“Look out for that one,” Bobby said, pushing John into a seat and dropping into the chair next to the Winchester father, “she’ll flirt ya right outta your halo.” 

Ash cleared his throat.  “Not that I don’t want to get caught up in the personal lives of others, but we’ve kinda got a lot of work to get started on.  Y’all mind if I go ahead and steal these two?”  He gestured toward the seraphs huddled together. 

Raphael nodded.  “Of course!  We are at your disposal.”  Silently, he said, _Remember, little angels—open minds.  We have much to learn from the people here._

Puriel and Charmeine tried to smile, following Ash to another set of tables.  They were joined by Rufus, Bill, and Jo.  Ellen set down the bottles of liquor in front of Bobby before going to sit with her family.

Rufus yelled from across the room, “Pamela!  Get your psychic ass over here!”

“Fine,” she said under her breath.  She gave Raphael a sly smile.  “I’ll make sure your siblings don’t panic themselves into a corner.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as she was gone, John leaned forward with a glower.  “Now, start talking.”

“As I said—your wife was returned to life on Earth as a gift from my Aunt to your eldest.  But that was not the only gift given that day.”  Raphael poured a hefty-sized whiskey and pushed it toward John.  “Can I assume you know some of the events your children have survived since your passing?”

John threw the drink back, swallowing it all in one go.  “I’ve heard most of the basics.  The Apocalypse, Heaven’s civil war, Leviathans, Abaddon, the second civil war with Metatron, and the Mark of Cain are all well-known stories up here.  Especially once Charlie and Kevin joined us—those two were close to my boys after most of us were long gone.”

“Then you know of Samuel’s time in the Cage.”

“Yeah,” John grunted, wincing painfully and pouring another drink.

“Your son sustained great damage at the hands of my brothers.  My Father healed him, using His grace to reform the pieces of Samuel’s soul.”

John remained silent as Raphael told the tale of the past two weeks—how Samuel was now a fledgling and all the Winchesters were under the care of Gabriel and Castiel.  The stoicism broke when he reached the part where the boy had been tortured into growing wings at the hands of humans.  Raphael paused when John put down the glass and covered his face. 

Bobby tentatively rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Johnny?”

The father wiped his eyes and gave a watery grimace.  “Yeah,” he whispered.  “I’m here.”

“Do you need a break, John?” Raphael offered.

“No,” John answered quickly.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Ah,” Raphael sighed, “I see that word runs in your family like a motto.”

“Excuse me?” John asked, confused.

“Samuel is fond of saying he is ‘fine’ even when it is clear he is not.  It is…frustrating.”

John gave a small sad laugh.  “He’s a Winchester alright—no amount of grace can change that fact.”

“So I am learning,” Raphael said, pouring another drink for the man.  “He is doing much better.  I healed his injuries as soon as he allowed it.  The rest will come with time.”

“The rest of what?” John frowned.

“The emotional aspect of his healing.  Samuel suffers a great deal from many past traumas,” Raphael explained as gently as possible.  “As he integrates memories he could not previously access, it stirs up more and more unresolved emotions.  Grace does not allow him to push these things to the side, which I believe was his primary coping mechanism as a human.  He does not trust easily, including his own instincts.”

“What do you mean he’s not trustin’ his instincts?” Bobby asked, interrupting whatever John was about to say.

“Samuel may have more memories and experiences than any human adult, but his grace is young.  By angel-standards, he is considered almost a toddler.  Children have needs and instincts that they usually act on without thinking, yet Samuel’s adult mind fights against them.  His grace reaches out for reassurance and instead of allowing it, he will push us away and insist he is ‘fine.’  It is painful to watch and not be permitted to intervene.”

John scoffed.  “I didn’t raise them to need their hands held.”

Raphael sat back, unprepared for such a statement.  “It is not a matter of ‘holding their hands.’  Children must trust they are safe if they are to thrive.  This is true of humans and angels.  I am not implying that he is helpless or in need of coddling.  But he is in pain, and I do not wish him to suffer simply because he believes he should be strong enough to do so on his own.”

“I didn’t—” John cut off with a sigh, pushing his drink to the side.  “That’s not what I meant.  I love my boys.  Always have, always will.  But I wasn’t always a good father.  I made a lot of mistakes with them—choices I can never take back.  I was trying to say that they were raised to rely only on themselves and each other.  I _taught_ them not to trust or talk to anyone else.  Hell, they couldn’t even rely on _me_ half the time.”

“I see.”  Raphael reached for the bottle of liquor and poured a drink for himself.  It burned his vessel’s throat and chest as it slowly progressed to the stomach.  “My Father was similar.  In the beginning, He was very close to us all.  But then He gave Lucifer the Mark to lock away Amara, and it all changed.  My brother changed as the Mark corrupted his grace.  We were so blind and naïve.”

“What happened?” John asked, refilling the archangel’s glass.

“Father ordered Michael to cast Lucifer into the Cage.  And when it was done, He left us.  We were adrift without guidance.”  The room faded as Raphael lost himself in memory.  “Michael broke under the weight of what he’d done to his closest brother.  Gabriel ran away, unable to deal with the fighting.  Part of me died that day.  We all just wanted it to end—this eternal cold existence.  So we found the prophesy that promised paradise at the cost of humanity’s destruction, and followed it like a blueprint.  We manipulated bloodlines that led to the birth of Michael and Lucifer’s true vessels.  And those vessels set into motion a series of events no one could predict—all the way up to this very moment.”

“Sam and Dean have a way of doing that,” Bobby laughed.

“Indeed,” Raphael raised his glass to the hunter. 

“Not sure how I feel about being compared to God,” John said softly.

“Your family was manipulated.  Your sons’ lives paralleled the archangels they were destined to host.  Everything was designed for this purpose.  ‘As above, so it is below.’”  Raphael saw he’d had no effect on the guilt that ate away at the man.  “Yes, your choices were your own.  But you would never have had to make any such choice had we not pushed you into it.”

John nodded without looking up, too busy contemplating the archangel’s words.  When he did finally meet Raphael’s eyes, there was a hint of relief and gratitude hiding behind unshed tears.  “So, my boy is a little boy again?  And he has his mother and brother with him?” he asked, steering them away from the clearly painful topic. 

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed, automatically smiling at the thought.  “They are all still adjusting.  Mary had no memory of time passing—finding out that her sons were both grown was quite a shock, I’m told.  And the brothers are learning what it means to have a mother again.  Or for the first time, in Samuel’s case.”

“Wait!  Mary doesn’t remember?” John’s distress was enough to draw the attention of the other hunters and angels.  “But she was here with us—with _me!_   How could she not remember?”

“I do not know,” Raphael said carefully, frowning in thought, “I will talk to her when I return.  Perhaps it is a side-effect of Amara’s resurrection.  Whatever the reason, I should be able to help her recover those memories.  With her permission, of course.”

“Please, do!”  John was emphatic.  “I-I _need_ her to remember me _here_ —not just who I was before her death.  She knows who I became after the fire.  We had a lifetime to work through that up here together.  If that’s gone…”

Raphael gently grasped John’s hand until the man met his gaze.  “I promise—she will know.”

“The boys’ memories of me are bad enough.  I’ve spent years trying to think of what I’ll say to them when they get up here…and I still don’t have a clue.  What _can_ I say?”

“The words will come to you,” Raphael said firmly.  “Let your love for them guide your tongue.  They already know the story.  It has played out many times in their own lives as they’ve lost people and been sent down dark paths.  What they lack is the epilogue—the ability to trust in happy endings.”

John looked as though he was seeing the archangel for the first time.  He swallowed, speechless with emotion, and simply nodded.  Raphael squeezed the man’s hand once more and let him go. 

He needed to return to the bunker.  Time moved like a stream in Heaven—some places ran rapidly while others trickled lazily.  It was easy to lose track of the hours and days on Earth while walking through Heaven. 

Before he could announce his intentions to leave, the Roadhouse door opened.  Three men entered, and Raphael stood at the sight of one familiar face.  He had never personally guarded this Prophet, but all angels knew the souls of God’s chosen.  Everyone else turned as the newcomers entered, sending waves and words of welcome.

“Did we miss anything?” Kevin Tran asked breathlessly.  His wide eyes took in the sight of the seraphs, then froze when he spotted Raphael.  Clutching his bag tightly to his chest, he whispered, “Oh, shit.”

Raphael did not understand the Prophet’s reaction—did he fear the presence of archangels?  Prophets were the only humans consistently protected by Heaven’s greatest warriors.  But before he had the chance to ask, Ash spoke. 

“Kevin,” the computer genius’ voice carried a playful tone, “did you do what I told you _not_ to do?”

“Nooo,” Kevin lied, blushing brightly. 

Light laughter filtered through the room as some of the hunters shook their heads in amusement.  Raphael walked toward the Prophet, curious about what was happening.  Kevin skirted around the hunters and tried to take the long way around the room.

One of the men who’d accompanied Kevin grabbed the back of his shirt as he passed, pulling him back to them.  “Not so fast,” the man said.

“Hello, Kevin Tran—Prophet of my Father.”  Raphael bowed slightly and tried to not appear intimidating. 

“Hey,” Kevin said shyly, “You’re, umm, Raphael, right?”

“I am,” he answered.

 “Oh man,” the Prophet mumbled, “I didn’t think _you’d_ be back so soon.”

 “I…is that a problem?”  Raphael looked to the others for clues, but everyone was grinning.  He didn’t understand.

Sighing, Kevin thrust the bag toward the archangel.  Raphael took it slowly and opened the flap.  He couldn’t stop the deep, rolling laughter from flowing at what he found.  Books from his office were crammed together, nearly breaking the bag’s seams with their weight and size. 

“Sorry,” Kevin whispered.  “They looked so interesting.  I couldn’t help myself.”

Still laughing, Raphael handed the bag back to the Prophet.  “You may borrow them, if you wish.”

“Really?!”  Kevin’s surprise was written all over his face.

“Very few humans can even read these tomes, let alone appreciate them.”  Raphael turned to the others.  “I must take my leave.  It is nearly time for breakfast and today is important.”

“What’s today?” Bobby asked.

Raphael grinned.  “It is Samuel’s first day of training.  Which reminds me—I need to get some books from my office for him.  Hopefully, you left a few behind.”  He winked at the Prophet, making the young man blush even harder. 

Bobby stood and shook his hand.  “You take care of those boys.”

“I will do my best, Bobby Singer.” 

John also shook his hand.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “Can you tell them…tell them I love them?”

“I can, and I will.”  Raphael leaned forward and whispered in the man’s ear, “Remember, John—your son is an angel now.  You may be seeing him sooner than you think.”

John jerked back in surprise.  “You mean he can visit?”

Raphael nodded.  “As soon as he is ready, we shall bring him to see you.”

“I-I’d appreciate it.”

Raphael made his farewells, relieved to see the seraphs relaxed and happy with their new-found friends.  In his office, he gathered tomes on Enochian and Heaven’s history and a few things he thought might interest his new student.  He stopped to say good-bye to Michael, letting him know the meeting with the hunters had been a success and promising to return soon. 

And then, he flew back to Gabriel’s nest, not wanting to miss a moment of the day with his favorite little family.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS FEED MY SOUL (and will be rewarded with Morpheus-kisses)!!!
> 
> Come be my friend on Tumblr: @TheRiverScribe


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